Gambit's Refrain
by paradoxed
Summary: The Giant War ended months ago—but Artemis hasn't recovered. Neither has Percy Jackson. A moonlit meeting presents a possibility that returns again and again. A story of divinity and mortality, of love and all that comes with it.
1. Fate's Requiem

My story. Not my characters.

* * *

" _Sometimes I remind myself that I almost skipped the party, that I almost went to a different college, that the whim of a minute could have changed everything and everyone. Our lives, so settled, so specific, are built on happenstance." Anna Quindlen_

* * *

Lightly, lightly.

Heel.

Don't forget to breathe. Steadily, steadily, inhale.

To toe.

Exhale.

The tinge of low lying haze dampens everything slightly, colors and sounds. Still, her footstep falls audibly onto the thin sheet of snow that blankets the earth. As careful as her tread is, the minute noises are still distinguishable, even as infinitesimal as the sound may be.

"Out of practice," Artemis scoffs, voice only a heartbeat louder than her movements. But she is out for that very reason. The … for lack of a better euphemism, developments in recent years were not very permissive in allowing her any time for frivolities.

Now, however …

Her next step lands on a camouflaged patch of ice. An involuntary grunt ekes out of her as she skids to the side. She steadies herself too late, and the insides of her right moccasin fills with sopping snow.

Artemis's otherwise gentle expression sours. It isn't as if she is particularly afflicted by the lowered temperature, as a goddess and all. It is, however, uncomfortable, and disagreeable for her footwear to be in such a state. The Huntress swiftly extracts her foot from the mound of snow it landed in, and places it gingerly on a more secure location.

Withdrawing her foot from the moccasin, she perches and bends gracefully over to snatch up the foot wear. Still balanced on her left leg, the goddess gently shakes out the chunks of snow from the shoe. Delicately laying the moccasin down, she slides her foot back in. Her previous foresight pays off: the waterproof layer she added protects the deerskin. The satisfaction of something physical, is, after all, better than the shortcuts of sorcery. As for the cuff of her leggings - they will dry soon enough on their own. The stain of wetness doesn't even show amongst the black fabric.

The moon goddess straightens up and brushes away the sheaf of freshly freed dark auburn hair in front of her left eye to behind her ear. Reconfiguring herself, she presses on undaunted towards the lake.

Traversing snow isn't Artemis's thing. Greece never had a climate that could be considered remotely frosty. There was the more occasional snowfall in Roman territory, but that was a different matter.

The facts are simple - she is a Greek goddess (right now, at least), and is so defined by that pantheon. Specifically hunting in snow is not a skillset she naturally has. And for acquiring it - the relatively few years in Germany, Spain, and France didn't help with learning how to hunt in snow. England was the center of Western Civilization for several centuries longer, but snow there is inconsistent. The United States is the only place where she can traverse in a colder climate regularly. The great expanses of the frontier are much better than any previous civilization. The area of the US nearly matches the entire continent of Europe in size.

The previous centers of Western Civilization lack snowy environments for her to practice the abilities in question. For that matter, also fewer deserts, but that is another topic (partially why she enjoyed hunting jackalopes really - the fresh experience of the hunt in a desert environment). It's up to her to maintain those learned abilities. She is defined by the ancient Greek era, and they knew little of true winter. The beliefs of the fallen Roman empire equally limits her alter ego.

With one final crinkle of snow, she slips off the shore onto the frozen lake, stride smoother than before and just a touch less perceptible by ear. Her gait is comfortable now, and she glides towards the shore of the reservoir. Immune to the bite of the gusting wind, the goddess accelerates as she leaps onto the ice. The leather soles of her moccasins magically smoothen, and Artemis skates forth. Her silver tunic conforms to the swells of her front due to the speed she moves at, while the back flutters behind her like wisps in the air.

It simply cannot stand for her to be unskilled in something she should technically be capable of doing. So she's here now, while she has the freedom to enjoy herself. After all, it's the perfect time.

It's the Winter Solstice, and it's the full moon. Auspicious times. Sure, she's missing the largest party she's ever seen at Olympus right now. A bit late to truly celebrate the victory over Gaia, but she wasn't defeated until long after the summer solstice. So fast forward approximately five months, and that's tonight. The awards ceremony and victory party. This year's solstice is more complex and exuberant too, given the mix of Greeks and Romans in attendance. And perhaps even partially because of two consecutive victories, really, considering the summer previous was the entire deal with Kronos.

Perhaps that is what it's like to be mortal? Everything is a rush, countless major events happening so soon after one another, not even a year's worth of time in between? It used to be decades if not whole centuries that go by without anything catastrophic taking the wheel, but the entire debacle with the giants was resolved within a few months, right after the Titan War.

Anyway, her Hunters are enjoying their time by themselves at Olympus. But Artemis herself prefers enjoying the illuminated night tonight. As much as she loved … no, loves her followers dearly, even a goddess needs time for themselves. Such social events are already a bore, but the one she was attending just now was even worse than usual. The annual meeting just about an hour or two ago was a hellhole of ego-stroking ceremony and transparent accolades.

She can refresh and reset here. Everyone else can have their ambrosia and nectar, their odd mishmash of dancing to different tunes. She'll take in the local chip of wilderness in the city. It's perfect, and it's winter - and oh what a wonderful, what a beautiful, what a gorgeous season it is.

Artemis never tires of winter. Out of the four distinct seasons, it's her favorite. The rain of spring is irritating, even if she enjoys the challenge it presents in hunting. Conversely, the hunt also becomes too simple, though, due to the influx of naive newborns. Summer is fine - just rather average. Not bad, just nothing overly special besides raised temperatures. The colors of autumn are amazing, the hues of the many crunchy leaves as they swirl away in the wind.

But nothing compares to the trickling snow, right now, dancing past her face and down to the earth. The snow is so dynamic, in the way it simultaneously simplifies and complicates the hunt. The imprints everything leaves in snow makes finding trails and tracks easy, yet the crispy snow counteracts that advantage by making every step a challenge to keep silent. The slightest noise, after all, has the potential to warn away suspicious prey in the muted hush of winter.

Sigh … the atmosphere is fresh, revitalizing, invigorating!

After some dallying (see: twirling and pirouetting), she stops at the center of the artificial lake. The blizzard that has kept away the mortals for several days has 'let up', so the constellations and moon above are visible, even in the midst of a great mortal city. Most likely her father is responsible. Maybe she'll thank him later. For now, she'll take in the beautiful moonlit expanse of a winter wonderland.

Looking up, though … another thing she loves are the hypnotizing puffs of air from her breath. It's not as intricate as the smoke of sacrifices, but nonetheless enchanting after its own fashion. She can't control the lilting tendrils of offerings, but she can manipulate her exhales to create fascinating shapes that hang in the air.

Nonetheless, she leaves the traceries she's created, planting her foot to push o-

CRRKK.

A massive groan reverberates, and the ice shudders. The goddess of the moon freezes in place, a statue mid dance in the center of the body of water.

She knows the sound well - the tell-tale crack of unstable ice. She can never forget it. One of her Hunters had died because of it more than a millennium ago. A river the group crossed appeared frozen, but one misstep and the girl had been swept underneath the surface of the ice and away by the fast moving current underneath the surface. They'd retrieved her, even been able to get her breathing again. But her Hunter had never woken. Left in a coma, brain dead and unresponsive. The ninth death within her enclave. Rather mem- rather, rather memorable because it had been when she'd begun (infrequently) initiating new Hunters to her core group to keep their numbers … level.

The flash of thought passes, and Artemis pales as the creaking sound continues again at an even greater volume. Before she can react, the ice fragments beneath her. She flounders, toppling as her feet submerge. She desperately tries to move forward to stabilize, but the sudden movement only causes the ice before her to rise. As her movements further unbalance the platform of ice she's on, her disproportionate weight causes the ice to tilt. It's as if a slippery hill is growing in front of her, intent on sending her flailing back into the icy lake.

A snap glance to the side makes it evident that there is little around to help her out of her predicament. As her thighs completely sink into the numbing water, she's considering abusing her powers to get herself out. But it is utterly humiliating to do so, even with no witnesses around. Using her powers to escape from something as simple as falling through ice? Her own conscience will torture her for decades, even centuries. So she panics. However futile, Artemis's hands instinctively attempt to find purchase somewhere, anywhere, to be foiled by the uncompromising ice.

The choice to teleport away before falling in is denied to her, though, when the lake abruptly ceases to swallow her. Instead, like a new wave swallowing the riptide, the arctic waters shove her away, vomiting her back onto the ice in a crawling position.

The goddess instantly scrambles to her feet. She cannot allow herself to be completely off balance and so off kilter. Yet her sluggish limbs betray her, and she falls once again.

Before her face plants itself painfully onto the (mostly) frozen lake surface, a pair of stable hands locks around her waist, preventing further loss of her dignity. But in the next second, she finds proper footing and claws her way out, spinning away. A bow of purest silver is already in her hands, the string twanging back and forth. The arrow it once held is airborne, long gone from its nocked position.

"Shit!" the boy who'd steadied her yelps. At such close range, the arrow seems to have passed cleanly through his side. Only a flesh wound. Either her aim is debilitated by the cold, or he dodges fast enough to redirect potentially lethal hits somewhere safer. "What in Hades was that for?"

"Don't -" the word is abruptly bitten off as Artemis bends over to try to catch a proper breath. The shivering makes such difficult, but she gets enough oxygen soon enough. She rights herself, dismissing the bow she'd summoned back into the ether.

"Touch me…" she finishes awkwardly, in a hiss that warbles away as she realizes who the boy - no, the man - is before her. It explains why her clothes are dry again without her behest, at the very least.

"No need to try and push me into the water too," replies Percy Jackson, green eyes rising to meet her own. She inspects the damage she caused - only to see smooth, unmarred flesh through a hole in the fabric of his shirt - he's already completely healed from the damage she inflicted. "I was just trying to help, uhm, miss."

For a moment, she's taken aback. The goddess's mind races as she tries to understand how one of the undisputed heroes of Olympus doesn't recognize her.

"Uhm … ?" He pauses, cocking his head like a curious cat. "I was trying to get a name there."

Artemis awkwardly realizes she's been staring into the depths of the sea green eyes, and turns sharply away to the side. The pieces of the puzzle of why he doesn't recognize her come together. Her eyes at the current moment are blue, in honor of the blue moon just the previous month. To better enjoy the skies, she's eliminated the glow from her body. The currently dim illumination probably makes her auburn hair appear a purple or black shade. Even her current form also looks several years older than the usual age she appears as (her intentions before her … mishap, was to take advantage of the reach of longer limbs while skating on the ice).

That, and she also remembers the first time she met him. The Son of Poseidon isn't the brightest bulb, even if he is now wiser than that time before. And maybe … her cheeks flush in embarrassment … maybe because the boy (no, man) didn't expect a goddess to fall into a lake.

She decides it's better to pretend to ignore his question until she can find a response for it. To distract him, she asks a question. "Why are you not at the celebration?"

"How do you know about -" Percy begins askancely, but then his jaw slacks as realization dawns in his vivid eyes. "Oh. You're not mortal." He facepalms. 'Herp derp, I'm dumb. How else would I have got hurt? I thought you accidentally ripped a hole in my shirt while trying to stand or something."

"Clearly." She stands to her full height - still somewhat shorter than he - and they regard each other awkwardly. Conversation wasn't exactly flowing … "Well?"

"Oh - question, right, right. I left right after all the awards," mutters the Son of the Sea, "Wanted some quiet time. Annabeth and I -" A look that she can't quite interpret fast enough flashes across his face. "Well, nevermind - Annabeth is showing off her work to the rest of the Seven, so I slipped out."

Oh. Artemis recalls that the Daughter of Athena is actually responsible for rebuilding Olympus - it feels like it's been much longer since those first few months after the Titan's assault on Olympus, and before the shut down by Zeus. Her work is admittedly excellent, even if she isn't at the palace very often. Personally, the goddess very much likes the salad bar, though she can do without the now even greater amount of statues of her brother.

Though, she supposes, more statues of Apollo on and about everywhere is well worth him being gone.

"Back at you, then. Why're you down here?" Percy frowns. "Whoever you are. You still haven't given me your name."

"Luna," Artemis says, after a moment's consideration. She's unsure where she's going with that response, giving a false name. But she continues down the rabbit hole nonetheless. Well, regardless, she has to commit to it now. "And for the same reason."

She's at a loss for what to do next. Beside them, the ice freezes over once more. It's relatively fast (being ice and all), and the two watch the process quietly. But when it's over, the pause in the conversation extends several fractions too long, and so she turns around to leave. She … she wants to talk with him? She feels as if she wants to talk to him - but she has no idea how to. What to do about males - her past is working against her. Naught to do but leave. At least, until …

"Hey, Luna. Why not hang out and talk a bit?" the Son of the Sea asks out of the blue. There's a tingle, and she sense that he reached to grab her shoulder, but hesitated before touching her. It seems he is as honorable and chivalrous as ever, remembering her earlier 'request.' "Plenty of time and space to share, both of us not being at the party and all. And … and why not meet someone new, make new friends?"

Meet someone new? Ha. But as he is willing … well, why not? There are some questions she's curious to hear the answers to. She walks on, answering, "Let us find a more comfortable venue first."

But before she can move further, Percy actually places his hand on her shoulder. At her reflexive turn and glare, he smiles nervously and quickly lets go. "Sorry, it's just that you're heading towards fragile ice." He move past her and nudges the ice in front of them, which groan and crack in response. "How about I take point?" the demigod suggests.

She hesitates, looking down at the path to the shore she intended to take. There's no obvious cracks, yet to ignore the obvious more experienced person would be irrational (as just so well proved by Perseus). She nods and steps back.

When Percy bypasses her to take lead, she sees in her peripherals just the hint of a grin on his face. Artemis doesn't understand why, but nonetheless trails after him as he guides her safely off the ice. Besides a few warnings of where not to step, there's no discussion. The lack of speech is heavy and oppressive, and all other noises amplify by a thousand. The rush of ichor pounds in her mind, and the crunching of Percy's steps (and hers echoing right after) as they transition back to snow is deafening.

She better get good answers for this.

Even though they've reached the shore, her companion continues on. The hero, native to New York by her memory, should be far more familiar with the park than she is, so she follows without a word of protest. It isn't long, perhaps another four minutes, when they arrive at a zone full of park tables. Artemis half nods in thanks when Percy clears the snow from the nearest table with a sweep of his arm for her to sit unfettered. The gesture is unnecessary, but there is no reason to deny his courteousness.

Artemis accommodates herself as the Son of the Sea clears a spot for himself opposite of her. She continues to occupies herself with finding the sweet spot to sit in comfortably while he settles into place. However, When all corporeal distractions are dealt with, neither of the two speak up. Despite her investment in the matter, Artemis isn't in a hurry to be the one to initiate conversation. So, in the meantime, she regards the hero with more depth (of which she is sure he is also doing, judging by his own curious gaze).

Percy's matured. On the surface, he's wearing more formal clothing. He looks composed, even handsome in the light blue buttoned shirt, and the khakis look well fit. He's still wearing sneakers like every other teenager, but it works well. She assumes some child of Aphrodite helped a lot. There's also a new depth to his eyes, slightly more distant in his own musings. The gray streak in his hair is gone, but he seems to carry an even greater weight on his shoulders.

Eventually he speaks up. "I feel like you probably know a bit about me already - since you recognized me, and all." It's almost cute (even if completely lacking in formal conduct) how he ruffles the back of his head, sheepish and humble. "But let me introduce myself properly. Perseus Jackson, Son of Poseidon. Though feel free to call me Percy."

He extends his hand to her. After assessing it for a moment, she shakes it. "Luna … Luna Anson."

"Where from?" he asks.

"New Rome. Legacy," she makes up, unsure of where she's going with this.

"Really?" Percy's eyes do another flickers over her body once again. She resists the urge to turn him into a canine of some sort. "No service?"

"What?"

"Service. Y'know-" he pulls up the sleeve on his left arm, and she sees the brand on his arm. Trident, SPQR, a single tally line. Oh, right. But who is she to remember how some rigid Roman society works? Evidently, Luna. Artemis's desire to polymorph him fades away.

"There were certain medical issues when I was younger that I'd rather not talk about." Is that enough of an excuse? "So I wasn't allowed to be recruited into the legion."

"Ah. Sorry for asking," he says, "But legacy, huh? Of whom?"

"Jupiter." It's certainly a stretch, but she technically is a descendant of Jupiter. Just much more directly than she is implying at the moment.

"So was that a lightning bolt you hit me with earlier then?" asks Percy, smirk playing across his lips. "You have amazing reflexes for someone who's never been in the legion." When she opens her mouth to respond, he quickly interrupts. "No worries about that - I'm fine, and my bad for scaring you."

He hadn't even seen her shoot her bow? No wonder he failed to recognize her. "No, just some sorcery." More deflection of the truth. The ability to summon a bow out of the mist and shoot arrows of moonlight _is_ Mist manipulation, which is the definition of sorcery. "Still, I must apologize for wounding you."

"No biggie, no biggie." Percy repeats his earlier sentiments, and points to his exposed, unmarred flesh. "Healed fine, so no problems."

"Then, apologies for damaging the shirt." At that apology, he does react, paling to match the color of their environment more closely.

"Oh. Um, whoops? That might be a bit more of a problem, 'cause I kinda borrowed this from a friend." Artemis cocks an eyebrow, wondering if she knows who the actual owner of the shirt is. The Son of Jupiter, perhaps?

"Let me attempt to make up for it then." She leans over the table. Hovering her hand just above the hole, she focuses. It's a small and simple fix, so it's well within her abilities to fix, even if 'clothing powers' are not within her domain. When she removes her hand, it's as if she never shot him. Hopefully the other side also fixed itself, provided she really did power the arrow completely through him.

"Thanks, Luna." His smile is excessively grateful to an astonishing degree, and she again surprises herself when her cheeks color and her lips curl upwards a bit in return.

A beat passes.

"So what brings you brought you to Olympus then?" he continues, before stammering. "Not - not that I'm trying to say that you aren't important enough or anything. Just that … just that I thought only those part of the war was invited."

Artemis rolls her eyes. "All of New Rome would never miss a party this big." She's just assuming things at the moment, but she does remember that Rome did enjoy their festivities overly so.

"Well, considering … this," Perseus gestures around them. "I think you're missing the party right now."

Ah. The implied question stops her short, and she looks for her answer in the moon hiding behind the bare branches of the trees. "I don't enjoy big social events."

"Then why did you come at all?" Again, the person she remembers as a somewhat dimwitted child surprises her with an insightful question.

"I wanted …" What to say? "I wanted to see the heroes."

"I guess that makes sense," Percy muses. "I guess you couldn't have met many because you're a civilian. But why so interested?"

"You guys saved the world. Twice, in your case. Is that not reason enough?" Artemis doesn't know where she's pulling all these responses from, but he seems to accept all of them them rather readily.

"What makes you think I've done it twice?" She almost sighs at his continual curiosity.

"Rumors and stories travel fast. Is it true you denied immortality after the Titan War?" The goddess already knows the answer, but she needs to get the conversation on her track.

"So you've heard that too? Damn." Percy's lips tighten, and he looks as to be weighing his response. "Yep." Percy finally answers, popping the p. He traces something in the snow covered part of the table. She follows the lines, but it's unclear as to what he's drawing.

"Why?" His refusal is something she can't figure out. No other demigod has ever denied eternal life.

She glances back to his face, and their gazes lock. And he looks … exhausted. Far too exhausted, in fact, for an eighteen year old. "I ask that myself sometimes."

She must look confused, because Percy stops fidgeting to explain. "There are some other reasons, especially as of recent times, but I suppose I can tell you the big one. So you know the prophecy, right? For what happened last summer?"

Artemis isn't sure where Percy's going with this, but she's willing to sit through any explanation at this point, no matter how long winded, to understand. "Yes. Seven half-bloods shall answer the call, etc."

"Was there some prophecy in your Siba-whatcha-ma-callit books that talked about you guys taking down Mount Othrys?" Percy continues.

"Just a few lines about the stars falling," admits Artemis. Even the gods keep track of prophecies, and she has the advantage with the god of prophecies as her brother. Or, had. "And Sibylline is the right term for it."

"Well, there was one about me that you probably didn't hear about, even if you know about my other … accomplishments, since you're Roman and all." Yeah, totally. "At the same time Jason took down the star guy- Khios, or was it Krios? Met him in Tartarus, I think." The demigod trails off, then shakes his head. "Anyways, there was a prophecy about 'a half blood of the eldest gods' reaching 16 years old that defined my life. Olympus to preserve or raze. I won't ever forget it." Percy gazes off into the distance. "Athena asked me the exact same question you did. Literally right after the battle. Well, after the ceremony that was after the battle."

Oh. Artemis hadn't seen any of that confrontation - she'd went straight to checking up on her Hunters herself. Which … hadn't gone very well. The goddess focused back on him as he continued to speak.

"At the time, I knew for certain. I wanted to live life. Spend time with my friends, like a normal teenager. Have a relationship." His eyes cloud, farther away from her than the physical incarnation of the moon from earth. "I was finally free of the Great Prophecy. I don't suppose you understand what that's like? All that pressure? And then, poof - all of it, gone?"

"No, I wouldn't." She's been the subject matter of quests before, even the recent one when she'd lost … when she'd lost Zöe. But to have the entire fate of Olympus resting upon her decisions? That is the gift, and curse, reserved specifically for mortals.

"So tell me what you know of the Prophecy of Seven," Percy prompts, looking at her directly again.

"Did I not already demonstrate knowledge of the prophecy?" Artemis articulates. "And how will that help in this conversation? What does it have to do with my question?"

"Just trust me."

Artemis opens her mouth to retort nastily - then, stops when she realizes that she does. That she does trust him. So, the goddess does what he asked. " _Seven half-bloods shall answer the call / To storm of fire, the world must fall / An oath to keep with a final breath / And foes bear arms to the Doors of Death._ " She recites. "One of the few full prophecies decipherable in the Sibylline Books."

"So you Romans have had that prophecy for centuries. No, millenia, right?" At her nod, he resumes. "But we got that literally an hour after I'd finished the one involving me."

Artemis does her best to look surprised. None of this information is new to her, but it is a decent review. "Your point is?"

"Well, how much of it was really my choice that I didn't become immortal?"

The question hangs in the air. But… "Wait. How did you get from the prophecy to there?"

Percy, in a baffling and ambiguous mix of pain and sheepishness, smiles. "Sorry. My train of thought kinda went from A to Z with no stops in between there. I blame ADHD." His smile fades. "How do I explain...? So, there I was, right after the end of the first prophecy, thinking my life is set to be wonderful. Mom and Paul getting on brilliantly, Annabeth is as great as ever, and camp's improving." Now his face sours. "Then this prophecy I've just learned of a few months ago, something actually predicted two thousand years ago, takes away eight months of my life." It's at this point, when he takes a deep breath and clenches his fists (likely subconsciously), she finally understands the point he's trying to make. "Her Majesty Hera decided it's best for me to lose almost a year of what by all means should be some of the best times of my life."

It's now that she understands his point, and his pain. Because it does take a few seconds for her to really get why he sounds so devastated by this, and when she does, it's startling. Moreover, she can only understand, but she just cannot comprehend.

Artemis realizes, and understands that Percy feels cheated. He's lost precious time that he could have spent with loved ones.

But she can't comprehend it, though, because her time isn't limited. It's a unique sensation that she'll never be able to experience. She's immortal - a year is nothing to her, and even if she loses a few decades, it won't matter much. All her companions are … immortal, so there's really no time limit. A … limit, yes, that she's all too aware of … but she has to focus on Percy now.

Artemis searches for something to say, anything. Because Percy's now despondent look tugs at her heartstrings, but there are no consolations to give. Generally 'Great' Prophecies have taken at least a few decades if not more to come true, and in his case both happened practically on top of each other.

"Makes me wonder what would've happened if I'd chosen to become a god. Or if it was really a choice in the first place, you know?" His smile is wry. "Don't suppose that answers your question?"

"You told me to trust you earlier, but I'm still not seeing the connection. What is the relevance of all this other information?" What was the point of all that? She feels she knows what point he is trying to make, but his delivery is lacking.

"Sorry, sorry. I know I'm not being very clear - I'm not really good at explaining." The demigod sighs again. "I've thought things through before, but it's really hard to put into words. The things I just talked about is related, but not really on point. Just … alright. I know my original reasons. My question is, do it really matter?"

"Why wouldn't they?" Artemis still can't find the connection, and is getting frustrated by his lack of ability to convey his feelings properly. But she can't get enough of how genuine he's being, expressing his soul to her, despite her technically being an outright stranger to him.

"I was destined to be part of the Seven. If I was a god, I couldn't have been. There are only two things to consider, then," Percy recounts. He holds up a single finger; his eyes are haunted, staring into her soul. "Either I had the choice, and could've screwed over the world by not been part of the quest or something. Or -"

Before he can raise his other finger, Artemis pieces it together and finishes his sentence. "-or you never really had a choice. You were never going to accept godhood."

"Now you see," Percy concludes. "I was doomed to not accept, and then go through all the schist that Hera would put me through right after. My choice to not accept didn't even matter, and there was no fate I was defying. It was inevitable that things would happen the way they did. Like, is there any other way that I can see this?"

The logic is … admittedly sound.

"It isn't even like the war against the Titans, which was since World War II. That, I can take. But this Prophecy of Seven, which I originally thought I never had to deal with in my lifetime, ends up to be two thousand - _two thousand -_ years old, and dictates my near death. Though, I guess it was fated that I would live, eh?" The boy laughs bitterly, jaded by his life experiences. "And all the things I've had to deal with, that everything I've suffered through, and" - he swallows - "and am suffering through was, is, going to happen no matter what. I was always going to choose to remain mortal."

"So why in Hades would my choice matter?" His last question comes at a surprise, an abrupt end to his tirade against what wrongs him.

She takes a moment to relish what he's said before answering. "Why are you telling me this? We've just met." Not exactly, but her point still stands. He doesn't know her personally, even if he 'knows' 'Artemis.'

The hero shrugs. "You asked." Then he leans back, and the goddess blinks in surprise as she realizes they had both leaned in, so invested into their discussion. "And I guess, as sad as it is, it's so much easier talking to someone you don't even know well about these things. Sort of like a psychologist? No, a psychiatrist. Gotta pay money to talk about the stuff screwing with your head with a stranger rather than friends and family."

Artemis frowns. This is the hero whose fatal flaw is toted to be loyalty? "You have not even talked about this with your friends?"

"What am I supposed to tell them? Oh, what do you think would have happened if I wasn't there for the quest?" Percy snorts. "The entire thing was bad enough already."

"Not even your girlfriend?" Artemis never had that type of a relationship herself, but she knows that this is normally the stuff you can share with someone in that close position.

This time he outright laughs at her, though she doesn't feel the inclination to transform him into a creature for some reason. "Oh, that's even better, Luna. Let me just ask Annabeth what she thinks about me never getting together with her. Especially with what's been going on. Abandoning her, after, after everything, after all we've gone through together. Not being there with her in Tartarus. Great idea that would be."

She didn't think of that. "Well … what do you expect for me to do for you?"

Percy's stare penetrates through her, and she feels like he's known exactly who she is during the entire charade. "I expect to … hear a different perspective."

Artemis shudders, and she bundles in slightly, discomfited by his frankness. Enough for Percy to notice. "Are you cold? Damn, I left my jacket at -"

She cuts him off. "I'm fine. Forget what I can do already?" She's not feeling even a chill, but it's probably better to pretend to be more sensitive to the weather to be more believably mortal. That, and she does favor the white jacket she conjures before her. Snow combat camouflage pattern, a hood that has the perfect amount of room for her hair, loose enough sleeves to pull her bowstring back fully without restriction. And it complements her appearance. She quickly slips it on, and looks to Percy to find him standing.

"Let's keep moving, shall we?" He suggests as he stretches his muscles, hands extending to the skies. "To keep warmed up and not stiff. I've heard walking helps with thinking, too."

It's not really an issue for the goddess, but she falls into step next to him as they wander the paths. The walk is less hurried than before, a passive and relaxing stroll. She feels content to remain silent as she contemplates things, and she can barely hear her footsteps anymore. She's knows that she's still making some noises, but her tread is for the moment nigh undetectable because she's disguising it with Percy's crunching about.

And then he prompts her again. "Well?"

"… Give me more time to think," she whispers into the air.

"No problem." Artemis perceives that his focus is no longer locked onto her and now elsewhere. His presence is now not so much less pressuring as … comfortable. How strange.

She looks up towards the heavens, and takes in the full sphere in the sky that has defined her existence for millennia. As brilliant and as intoxicating as ever.

But she's distracted when Orion shines brightly, peeking out over the buildings. Her jaw clenches. It's far more distinct than the the other constellations. An absolute insult. She wants to tear those stars out of the fabric of the skies. So many of her Hunters, dead because of the atrocities that giant committed. Celyn … Naomi … Phoebe.

If Percy is right, were their sacrifices meaningless? She had focused all her attention on watching over them from Delos, but that had, rather than reassure her, only caused her torment. She wasn't able to protect or save any of them - only watch them die. Her treasured companions, most of them who had been with her for over a millenia, departed to a realm she would never be able to visit with good conscience. And, if Percy's point of view was right, all of it would have happened no matter what.

That day so many had fallen fighting in league with the Amazons, she had nearly gutted Apollo. So much of the Giant War was his fault. Unlike their father, she wasn't unreasonable enough to blame him for appointing a new Oracle of Delphi. But what she could accuse him of was being an arrogant, flamboyant, and utterly inane asshole who'd succumbed to the honeyed words of a politician. And that had led to the death of her followers, her few and far between companions.

The key word is was. Artemis is clueless in regards to his whereabouts, and it's probably better that way. For her twin.

She won't accept that her followers were destined to die. She can't accept that her followers were destined to die. Finally, she speaks. "So … in a nutshell, you think everything is predetermined?"

"What else _can_ I believe?" The hero mutters bitterly.

"But does that truly invalidate your purpose behind your decisions?" asks Artemis.

Percy stops walking abruptly. They're not too far off the water again. "What does it matter how I feel if my choices are already made?"

The goddess's cessation of movement is more fluid. She leans against an ancient maple tree to face him properly. How to go about this …? Oh, wait. "What did you ask for instead of immortality?"

"I'm not seeing where you're going with this." Percy's look is full of doubt.

She rolls her eyes. Typical male hypocrite. "How about you trust me this time?"

"Fair enough." Percy cedes, and he ploomphs down onto the pile of snow next to the tree, next to her. "I asked for all the gods to recognize all of their children. Couldn't just let everything happen again, y'know? Kronos - Saturn, is Kronos Saturn to you? - Saturn had so many demigod followers only because the gods didn't do that before. Though I guess that was fated to happen too, eh?"

"And why do you believe the gods would do that?" It's another answers she's been searching for, and she wonders if the answer will be just as … interesting.

The demigod's shrugging displaces the snow around his arms. "Gods can change."

Never mind. She chuckles in a self-deprecating manner. His response is indeed interesting, and also completely wrong. "No, they can't."

"What?" Percy bolts upright. "They've kept their promise. They swore on the River Styx!"

"Well, for one, so what if they swore on the River Styx? That promise doesn't mean anything anymore. When's the last time a god has been punished for breaking a pact on the Styx?" It's a rhetorical question, but she's sure he's thinking of her lieutenant right now. Thalia had been the one to incur the wrath of Hades. Not to mention- "You were born despite the Big Three's oath. Considering that of all things, your faith is truly remarkable."

"Then - then was all that for nothing?" The blizzard outside the park visibly swells, and all of the ice over the reservoir fractures from the churning waters beneath them.

Artemis attempts to placates him. "That wasn't really my point. Some of the gods are definitely too honorable not to keep their oath." She wasn't planning on breaking it anytime soon, although she didn't actually have children for the oath to work in the first place. "The point I'm trying to make is that gods don't change. My f- ancestor, Zeus, has been the source of just about every issue in Greek mythology because of his inability to keep his libido from acting up, and he was first to break the non-childbirth oath. He's certainly going to be one of the first to forget about the new oath you made them swear. And why do you think there was a Greek and Roman divide in the first place?"

"Well, isn't that proof in the first place that the gods can change?" She's losing him.

"No. If that were true, then there would only be Roman demigods, and there would be no Greeks," Artemis explains, "If there was just a smooth change, then there would be no distinction. The two aspects of the gods are completely separate, even if similar."

"Well, what does that have to do with whether my fate could be that I'll be turned into some guinea pig on a tropical island and that I can do nothing about it?" Huh. Now that she's imagining it, she's sure he will make a very cute pet.

"Simply that if you believe in fate, you wouldn't believe that gods can change." She sighs, and pulls up a foot to 'sit' on while still leaning on the tree. "The path of mortal lives are set, and the gods are the same for all time."

"That doesn't help with whether everything will happen no matter what I do about it!" Percy whines, scooting closer to also lean against the maple.

 _There is never only_ _ **one**_ _way! That is why there are_ _ **three**_ _Fates, not one. Is this not so?_

The words ring out in her mind, and she acts upon the inspiration. "Well, how about this? Why do you think there are three Fates?"

"Wait … I forgot about that!" Percy jumps in place, like he's been shocked by jumper cables. He stares at her again. "But … how did you know about that?"

Oh, skata, Artemis remembers that he'd been there too. "Know about what?"

"No way that that's common information," accuses Percy, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

Skata skata skata skata. She says the first thing that comes to her mind, as quickly as possible. "Not in the legion, remember? I've spent so much of my time in the library reading that they've hired me as an assistant there. I've found lots of obscure knowledge there over the years. Where the hell did you learn about that?"

"Huh. I guess…" He relaxes again, slouching back to the snow. "So, you're saying that there was always the option that I could have screwed over the world, then?"

"Or, Perseus, maybe you still would've been sent to New Rome and lost your immortality the same way you lost the curse of Achilles. Or the prophecy might've actually been about some other demigods in the far future, because there weren't seven suitable heroes. Or your Oracle could've given a completely different Great Prophecy, and the Prophecy of Seven would have been saved for another generation. Who knows? The past is set. You cannot change what happened." Just like how she accepts that there is no way to bring back her Hunters. Over and over again.

She's never lost so many at the same time before. She has yet to recruit any new members either - the pain is still too fresh. Not to mention it had been most of the fresh recruits that she'd just been getting attached to that had died during the Titan War. Oh, she can't lose her cool now of all times - she forces herself to continue. "Your choice did make a difference."

A laugh chokes its way out from the half-depressed man. "So you're telling me I could have screwed everyone over. Or became a god, and left everyone I knew. That's actually comforting, in a strange way. Thanks." Percy collapses back onto the snow.

"Well, I can offer more than that," Artemis blurts. Relevant facts bloom out of hiding within her mind. "You're so very concerned about prophecies? Have you forgotten the Oracle of Delphi is hidden away again?" And that her brother is missing, out of the way and probably not out of Zeus's doghouse for a few centuries? "And The Prophecy of Seven was the only undamaged prophecy left unfulfilled in our available pages of the books. All the remainders are just indecipherable scraps of paper. Your worries are … unsubstantiated, with how everything is now."

Percy's beaming (if still crooked) smile causes her to blush. "Dam, Luna, where have you been all this time? I could've used hearing that months ago!"

"It's nothing." She didn't quite receive the answer she'd originally been looking for, but she's happy with what she's heard. "But … then why did you deny immortality?"

The demigod deflates. "I guess I owe you the answer." The answer he gives next is spoken far too quickly and quietly, but she hears it anyway. "I didn't want to leave Annabeth - though that's going wonderfully now." But then his contagious smile returns, a bit forced but honest nonetheless. "But no, that was definitely not nothing. Gods be damned, I feel … free, now!" he exclaims. "I owe you. Something you want? Anything I can do in return?"

"No, no, what? It's fine," she protests. She can't conceive of anything that the Son of the Sea can do for her - he's already answered the questions that have been brewing in her mind for over a year. Also, Artemis risks tying herself in knots if she becomes 'attached' like this. He thinks of her as Luna - an expectation for future confrontations will be … in a word, convoluted.

"C'mon, Luna. There's at least _something_ ," he says, sitting up properly again. "Nothing at all? Really?"

"Nothing," she insists.

"Well, I guess I could always just make this a night to remember," Percy cedes.

"Wha-?" Her confusion distracts her momentarily, so she's cut off, completely unprepared when a snowball smacks her in the cheek. She sputters, and tries to speak again, but she's cut off again when another chunk of snow glances off her stomach.

For a moment, she's once again clueless as to what to do next. But even as the Son of the Sea dashes away for cover, he throws another that smacks her leg.

Right. That's not going unanswered.

The snowball fight that ensues is surprisingly fair, though there probably isn't a standard for a snowball fight between a single goddess and single hero. Regardless, projectile weapons are child's play to her, and it takes very little to adjust to the trajectories and falloffs of the average snowball. But while her shots land consistently almost immediately after her first few trials, Percy gathers snow with his powers, and thus is far faster at generating ammunition.

It's … exhilarating. The Son of the Sea lobs practically a dozen snowballs at a time, his abilities helping him form and launch multitudes of volleys. His ability to aim at a moving target is horrid, though, so his misses land in clumps nearby. Those in turn are easy to pick up and reuse for her purposes, so the action rarely ceases. She can't remember the last time she's enjoyed herself so much sinc-. She can't remember the last time she's enjoyed herself so much, and there's an uncharacteristic grin on her face as they run around like children.

At one point their match moves back away from the reservoir, and into the more wooded area, where the runs between the natural cover changes the entire battle. A few times she climbs the trees, where it's simple to use her vantage point to rain down barrages at Percy before being forced back down to resupply. When they transition to one of the playgrounds, the verticality of the environment forces an entirely different approach to their contest.

But the most impressive battleground is created when she chases down the hero to the shore once again. After pelting him in the back with a few shots, Percy laughs and collapses, kneeling to the ground. Before she can take advantage, though, he sweeps his arms high above his head. In a completely frivolous use of his innate powers, he somehow sculpts the entire landscape into a labyrinthic series of corridors and gates and corners. There, it's a hunt, alternating cat and mouse. One particularly spectacular tussle happens when she retreats into a corner, thinking it safe. Instead, the walls fall in on her as her opponent ploughs straight through them, whooping as he does so.

The second time that happens, she counter-ambushes him by dodging and planting his face into the next wall, before taking off laughing.

Eventually they're back at the lake, thoroughly worn out. At least, she assumes Percy is worn out, as he retreats over the ice to create a wall she doesn't dare attempt to bypass. After a minute of a few half-hearted shots, he interrupts the tense standoff. "Truce?"

"Truce," she agrees. But she can't resist sending one last missile at his face as the ice wall comes down. It splatters into slush right across the bridge of his nose, and Artemis giggles when he coughs in shock.

He wipes his face clean. "I deserved that."

"Yes, you did," she assents. She steps onto the frozen lake surface once more. "I enjoyed myself, though, Perseus, so thank you. And how do you know how to control snow?"

"You're welcome." As she makes her way to him, the sheet cracks, and she slips, falling into his arms once again. Artemis blushes uncontrollably - she should have recovered her balance, but their snowball fight exhausted her more than she could have believed. Or perhaps that was their conversation that did that?

"You're welcome for that too," Percy chuckles. "Again. But let me just make sure that doesn't happen again." He lets her distance herself again as a look of concentration passes over his face. The ice reforms, to which he comments, "No sudden movements and we should be fine. And - and this is just something I picked up. Better than some other things I've tried to control." Percy shakes off the remaining snow from his clothing, "Going back a bit, though. I have a question for you now."

"Hm?" They're face to face, only a foot apart. He looks … different, and Artemis isn't sure what makes it so. Something with the eyes … or the clothing … something.

"If my choices do matter, then why can't gods change?"

The question turns her world upside down.

"Let's see about that," she whispers. Her blood is molten, and the vapor from her breath pulses with the dancing moonlight.

"Wha?" Percy leans in, turning his ear closer. "Didn't catch that."

The steam of their breath mingles. Gradually, with her silver eyes locked on his green eyes, she discards her jacket and lets it fade into nothing. The ichor is rushing far too hot within her veins. The material of her tunic flashes in her light as the goddess brings up her arms. He doesn't move, locked into place as she gently lays her hands upon his shoulders. "Dance with me."

He's frowning, and his brow furrows. "Bu-"

She interrupts. "The others are having their dance. Why shouldn't we?" The hero still hesitates, so she speaks again. "This is my favor. My request."

"Pushy, pushy," Percy snarks, but the hint of a smile is back on his lips. His hands find their way to her hips, oddly reminiscent of how he'd prevented her from falling. "Alright then, Moonbeam."

She raises an eyebrow, but says nothing as they begin to dance.

There's a comfortable gap between them as they sway to and fro. No music, but it's not really necessary. Not for Artemis. She's too busy absorbing what's happening. The even more vivid skies, the shimmering play of moonlight across the ice, the serenity of the (somewhat disturbed) landscape of snow. The unique mortal she's dancing with.

They don't move very far from where they are, but they do minutely progress away from the shore. Her right hand trails down his chest, where Percy's left seizes it. For a few seconds, their swaying stops as they gauge each other. Then, like he's handling a baby, he grasps her hand and holds it to his chest. His hand cusps hers, only his thumb between her palm and his front. His right hand migrates upwards to her back as she draws closer, her left hand curling back around his neck.

Artemis lays her head on his shoulder, cheek resting cozily by the crook of his collarbone.

There's no space left between them as they resume their dance.

She doesn't care.

For tonight, she's thinking of a world where her Hunters didn't die. That way, she can be happy without feeling guilty. For tonight, she believes that immortals can change. Because even if she knows that they absolutely can't, even though mortals can have a choice, that way she can have this moment.

Tonight, she's doing something different.

She loses track of the time, in a warm embrace and with her mind five worlds away.

But eventually the thunder rumbles. The sign of midnight of the solstice. It's time to go. The goddess extricates herself.

The atmosphere is charged, yet hollow. Percy's smile swims into her vision, and then his lips move. "Keep in touch?"

Artemis smiles back. Fragile and weak, even a touch mournful, but a smile nonetheless.

Oh, such a grand catharsis.

She blinks back tears, nods, then turns her back to leave.

Her footsteps are imperceptible.

* * *

 _Author's Note_

This work will ignore everything post Blood of Olympus, besides the concept of Apollo's punishment.


	2. Mourning's Dew

" _The moon is a friend for the lonesome to talk to." Carl Sandburg_

* * *

The rain is torrential.

The sky above holds back a tidal wave. However, for all that it contains, it still fails to completely prevent the waters from leaking through. And leaking, as in, letting through a downpour that prevents a line of sight any further than a few yards at maximum, though it's difficult to tell whether that range is dictated by the rain, or the extent of a Hunter aura's glow in the dark. Artemis, however, is inclined to believe the situation is the former, due to her quite vast prior experience.

However, also from prior experience, she can confidently state that nothing of the situation makes sense, for multitudes of reasons. For one, she's in New York, of which such heavy rain is rare. Moreover, it's winter still - the spring showers shouldn't have arrived yet. It should still be snowy. Though, it snowing ten feet behind her, due to the last point. The last point, that renders other points irrelevant, really: her location, beyond being New York, is more specifically within the borders of Camp Half Blood.

Yet a maelstrom of rain punctures through the weather barrier like a barrage of bullets.

What is going on?

She turns to Thalia behind her. "GET INTO THE BIG HOUSE!" She yells. The Huntress is certain that her effort is futile though, in the midst of the oppressively loud splatters and the roaring elements. That thought is confirmed by her lieutenant cupping her hand behind her ear, and the lack of appropriate voice accompanying the movement of the dark lipsticked mouth.

Still, Artemis yells again, but this time also gestures for the Hunters to move towards the main building of the demigod camp. That action gets the message across properly this time, hopefully, judging by Thalia's nod. After some further hand communications, all six of her followers quickly jog off to the left to find Chiron (and adequate shelter).

Her intentions had originally been to arrive much earlier. Well before midnight, at the least. After dinner. But the current time - several hours past 12 AM - serves to show the power of angry weather.

Of monstrous, uncontrollable, weather.

She surmises that the rain that punches through the barrier is not really any better than the sleet outside that falls outside of the boundary. Not even marginally.

The raging blizzard outside Camp Half Blood is not merely isolated to New York - it stretches from where it began near Mexico all the way to Kansas, brushing a swath of snow across the entire eastern half of the United States of America.

When she'd heard Aeolus's forecast, she'd known they wouldn't be able to escape the weather by fleeing west. The travel distance was simply too great from where they'd been; her Hunt would have been bogged down long before they'd left the range of the storm. The closest and best option for shelter was Camp Half Blood, about a day's and change worth of hurried travel away.

Her estimate had been off, and they'd still been slowed down for the past half day - and now that she's arrived, Artemis isn't even sure the current conditions of the camp are better than holing down in some mortal city. She'd come here thinking it would be free of detrimental weather of every sort, not to trade snow for rain.

The rest of the storm-grade clothing that had yet to fail her quickly do so in the new environment. Despite the hood of her silver jacket, the wind-angled rain soaks her raven locks to the point that it feels as if she dunked her head in water. A misstep soaks her boots with groundwater, revealing that the innocent looking puddles are at least two feet deep.

The water level of the canoe lake she bypasses has also definitely risen, and the pier appears to float on the surface of the lake, on the verge of being swallowed by a few more droplets. The flooding of the creek that both feeds and diverts from the lake makes the surroundings of said running bodies of water a swampland. Artemis can only imagine how much worse the creek within the forest is.

Finding her way through is thankfully much simpler than she expects. The older form the Goddess of the Hunt has retained for quite a while now is more ideal for facing the various obstacles in her path, without frivolous divine enhancement. Longer legs, more leverage, and all that jazz - like how she bounds over the muddied earth around the creek and the creek itself, heading for the cabins. Her landing causes a mighty splash that hits up to her thighs, but the black water resistant material of her leggings definitely deals with that better than the prospect of extended exposure from wading through.

Even as tokenly irritating the situation is, however … the weather puts her in an oddly reminiscent mood. It reminds her of the old days, when her father and her uncles were fully responsible for the shifts in nature, and the massive cataclysms that sparked whenever they raged.

But they've calmed and settled over the millennia - so what force is behind this storm? Both of the gods possibly responsible for the sweeping storm, as far as she knew, were denying responsibility. In fact, Father and Uncle Poseidon both seemed at the verge of blows the last time Artemis tuned in to the chatter on the weather radio frequency. The fact that the blizzard is outside both their own direct control and the influence of Aeolus does not settle well with her relatives.

The goddess of the moon weaves between a cabin adorned with drooping poppies poppies and a garishly pink doll house. Before she knows it, she's standing before the doorway of her cabin, its silver light pulsing weakly in the deluge of water. Instinctively, she pushes open the door and enters, ready to escape the tormenting weather.

As Artemis steps in, her aura bathes the room and sheds light unto vaguely familiar furniture. When was the last time she'd been in this cabin? How many times had she even entered here? The silver cabin had always been more a refuge for her Hunters while she undertook more dangerous solo hunts, that she was unwilling to bring her cadre along for. Nonetheless …

Out of the corner of her eyes, she detects a flicker of movement. She turns to it sharply, yet nothing's there. Merely dancing reflections - a play of light that triggers memories best left forgotten.

 _Join us, Milady!_

 _A copper skinned girl laughs delightedly at her, silver circlet braided in the girl's hair twinkling in the candlelight. Her dark eyes are glittering, singing with joy._

Artemis staggers backwards into the doorframe, freezing in place on the threshold. Oh, her dear lieutenant. No, no, no …

 _The others playing cards with her also smile, happy to see their normally reserved and cold leader happy. A redhead, smirking as she tosses down pair; a good-natured groan from the blonde as she folds over her cards; the last cackling as she reveals a winning hand._

 _C'mon, Milady! New round._

 _Artemis_ _ste_ ps forward-

No.

No.

NO.

The vision shatters, and the false Hunters splinter apart into a rich sanguine nothingness.

She pulls away, slams the door shut, and turns to flee. She's too hasty - the door crashes against its frame, but her rigid hand betrays her and refuses to loosen its grip from the door handle. Artemis wrenches her still rigid hand off and dashes away, but the unintentional counter-force pushes the door back open. The door swings ajar, and the rain blows in - more trouble for her Hunters to clean up later.

But the ghosts that escape from their prison and chase Artemis away agitates her far more than any residual concern for her followers.

 _I pledge myself to-_

She runs against the rain.

 _An quartz crystal stands resolute. She watches with her hunt as tears stain the formation a rich purp-_

The elements makes negotiating the usually clear path upwards far more difficult. She slips every few steps because of slipstreams or loosened soil and stones.

 _-tracked it down, Milady. By your will._

Still, Artemis can't escape her recollections. The watershed is fighting against her, pushing her back into the grasp of the vile carnival of past delights turned nightmares.

 _SHHH! Quiet, dunce, you're scaring th-_

Her ankle snags, twisting and warping.

 _At second glance, it's still nothing. But with a third, it's evident the lump is a young girl, in need of aid. Someone is to die for-_

She is already too far to be able to identify whatever obstacle she injured herself on by the time she realizes she's limping.

 _-upid male, ruining the hunt. Enjoy life as a ja-_

But Artemis persists on, hardly aware of the physical pain.

 _-ew World, Milady!_

 _The Hunt's excited anticipation is contagious, and she can't help but laugh and smile with her crew._

But a leg is giving out on her, she's losing speed.

 _Also, the mortals apparently believe your brother is the center of the universe now!_

 _Her laugh rings out hearing the report._

 _What else, Ce-_

Both legs, actually. And her arms, and her eyes. She's been run too ragged over the past few days, ensuring her Hunt's safety passing through the storm.

 _-st time, my Hunt. Constellations._

 _Moans all around, but they gather nonetheless-_

Spent too much of her powers shielding her followers from the worst of the blizzard.

 _-ady, why do they fight so?_

 _Even I will never understand just how horrible, foolish, and futil-_

She can't stop now. She's not far enough away. She can't stop now. She's not far enough away. She's not- she's not-

 _-can see the stars, my lady._

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, n _o, no, no, no, no, don't die, don't die, don't …_

Artemis trips over a sudden ledge she didn't anticipate. Trips, maybe, or her legs have finally decided to give up. She falls, splashing with a whumph unintelligible compared to the endless rain. Her body pinions her arm beneath her, and she submerges halfway into the shallow but overflowing pool of water on the tiled flooring of the mess hall.

 _She's dying._

She turns her face sideways and stares across a crack in the ground as far as her glow extends. Her immortal body already begins repairing itself, but her mind - her soul - has no such benefits.

 _Be strong for her._

Despite her exhaustion, the goddess struggles to her feet and stumbles to Table 8.

Oh, Zöe. From almost the very beginning of - of everything … the goddess shudders.

And now forever lost to her. Almost 3 millennia of dutiful companionship, to almost having a trusted equal … oh, Zöe …

Artemis fails to swallow an all too violent sob, a half cry of pain she didn't know she had in her, an expression she never thought herself capable of producing.

 _The father of all monsters roars, but for all intents and purposes she's not even aware of the sound. Too much of her is preoccupied, sensing each of the deaths of her followers defending Olympus._

 _To her everlasting shame and dismay, most of the new recruits perish, along with a none too few amount of the old guard._

She winces as impossible apparitions of her Hunt appear around the table, feasting joyously.

 _To the 50th consecutive victory against Camp Half Blood!_

 _Around them, the campers glare at the Hunters' celebratory toast._

Pushing herself back, she steadies herself on the benches as she moves away. She can't stay here, at this table. She hadn't expected coming to Camp Half Blood to be such a mistake.

 _The world is going to end, we have to go find them! We need to help!_

 _They're hunted by ORION! Is your powers fry your brain too?_

 _Bonus! Then we get to kill him too! Let's GO!_

 _She wants to call out to them - but she's not actually physically present - it's not going to end well - there's no way it will end well -_

She barely makes it back to the head table, collapsing into a seat.

If she could deal with it on Mount Olympus, she can deal with here.

Just need to avoid the danger zones as best as she can. It should be easier to do so here - there should be fewer.

 _Screams. So many screams. The sensation of her heart being rent in two, over and over and over and over again as massive arrows do the same to all of her dear sisters within sight._

Oh, Hades below, it still hurt so bloody much.

Artemis's head droops down, and she cradles it roughly with her arms. The rain if anything is even stronger than before, and there's no roof to shelter her in the pavilion. But she can't muster up the energy to protect herself from the storm's deluge.

At least, this way, she can hide her weeping from the world.

This way, she can believe she's still steady enough to go on. That her treacherous memory, filled with poignant aromas and sentimental happiness, is not poisoned. That she is still capable of facing them, that she can still continue. That she's still sane.

She can't sleep. Won't sleep. If she does, she'll actually dream, despite her divine status. Dream about everything, everything that happened, and no nO NO NO NO-

No time for this.

There is a dim light, approaching steadily. It flashes slowly as it passes between the columns that frame the pavilion, alternatively creating silhouettes and shining through to shed light upon the tables.

The goddess sits up straight, despite her muscles' protesting groans - she can't be seen like this. Settling herself, Artemis focuses her eyes through the rain and darkness. The torchlight bobs, and the boy's glasses reflect an intense gold.

"Lady Artemis," Jason Grace greets neutrally, bowing his head respectfully. At least, that what Artemis assumes he says, as she is lipreading in substandard conditions.

The first thing she notices is that despite the rain, the pontifex maximus's clothing is mostly dry. The usual purple Roman t-shirt (despite his defection), with a white trim - probably for status. Jeans, free of water until the cuffs. A careful perusing look reveals the cocoon of air that shields him from the storm. Now it's evident why the torch still burns, even though his shoes are soaked.

Artemis blinks in surprise as an explosive gust smatters droplets on her front. She wipes her face clear, then realizes she no longer feels droplets running down her face. The rain, she looks up to note, has ceased to land in the mess hall. Moreover, the dull all-encompassing roar she'd been desensitized to has been diluted to a mere backdrop. An extension of the The Son of Jupiter's power over the wind, to use it to block the rain - although it seems odd that Jason has no control over the rain itself.

The boy calmly sloshes his way to the tub-sized bronze barrier before the head table, disturbing the wind-stilled water. With a deft stroke, he leans down and clears the basin with a burst of wind, before reigniting it with his torch. The action magically spreads, and in a series of muffled poofs, the other torches along the columns surrounding the mess hall also light in pleasantly warm hues.

"Sorry about the water." Jason moves around the brazier and slides into the seat opposite of her. Artemis shifts a bit, surprised to hear his quiet voice so clearly after so long in the deafening storm. "But there wasn't a better way to make this" - the demigod gestures around them - "happen. But I imagine you would prefer this."

"Yes, thank you." Her words are stronger than she imagined they would be. "To what do I owe this pleasure, half-brother?"

The demigod winces ever so slightly. A bolt of lightning strikes the earth not too far away, and the surrounding flames flicker as the following thunder resounds. "My apologies. Recognizing our relation as half-siblings is simply … odd. But never mind that - I wish to discuss sacrifices to you, Lady Artemis."

The goddess mulls over her words. "I was not … aware of any need for this."

"I've already made all the arrangements with all the other Olympians and othees, and I'm still getting to all the mail and correspondence from even more gods. Hermes even set up a magical mailbox at the Big House just for me. It's so backlogged, even when I take stuff out it refills instantly." Jason's eyes surreptitiously flicker up and down, reading something from her stiff body language. His eyes tighten as he gets to the point. "But even with all that mail, I have yet to receive any form of message from you. And I also couldn't find you at Olympus last solstice, so …"

He trails off, so Artemis rubs the bridge of her nose, almost yawning before she catches herself. She's unsure whether she welcomes the distraction or not, and as moody as she is she definitely can't smite him on the spot. For one thing, Father would definitely be furious with her, along with all the other gods coming to the forefront because of the High Priest's efforts. And again, he was only trying to do his job. It wouldn't be fair for her to attack him when it was only his first approach. Maybe if he came back to annoy her again …? "How did you know I was here?"

"I sensed a god's presence approaching camp. I didn't know it was yours, but my senses woke me up. When I got to the Big House, I found Thalia, and I think you know the rest from there." Jason looks at her evenly. "So, even though I think I know your answer, from your lack of trying to communicate, I believe it best to get your confirmation. Is there any shrine, any sacrifices you want?"

No. She's had enough shrines over the years, and they all turned into places where everyone begged and pleaded to her for things she couldn't or wouldn't fulfill. Artemis can't conceive of why any other immortal would still want such pettiances. Worship is worthless - those who don't believe in the Greek Pantheon will never be converted, and those who do worship already believe in the existence of gods. Worship now served no purpose beyond inflating ego, which was absolutely pitiful in the context of how little worship would be received.

Artemis supposes she can understand minor gods wanting to get a proper taste of worship for their efforts, yet their desires are still pathetic. To be fair, not as pathetic as the other Olympians, who surely should realize the patheticness of their aspirations for grand shrines and sacrifices once more. Though that sentiment is likely giving her 'peers' too much credit.

And … sacrifices? … There have been too many sacrifices in her name already.

Sacrifices made by those too dear. "No."

"That's done with, then," Jason affirms, and Artemis nods. "By your leave?"

The Huntress almost dismisses him on the spot, but a moment of curiosity gets the best of her. Despite fatigue wearing her down to her bones, she asks the question that presented itself from the moment she arrived. "Why is the camp barrier malfunctioning?"

The boy, half ready to leave, grimaces. It seems he expected her to dismiss him, as it is very late in the night. Nonetheless, He settles back into place, sending ripples across the surface of the pavilion's 'pool' once again. "How much do you know about Percy and Annabeth?"

Oh.

Well, skata.

The truthful answer, as of more recent times, is that she knows far more than she should.

So naturally, she lies through her teeth. "Little beyond the obvious. What of them?"

Even through the lens of the boy's glasses, Jason's eyes visibly convey how troubled he is. The tone of his voice is equally exhausted and frustrated. "They've been together for almost two years now, though technically only one with what Hera did to Percy. They had a massive fight, from what Piper told me, but she didn't tell me why. Just that they fought. I do know they've been having some issues recently, butI don't think there was ever anything this major. Hades, I don't even know why Percy and Annabeth were even here to begin with, since as far as I know they're both supposed to be at school. Maybe some camp recruitment?" The Son of Jupiter shrugs helplessly.

Despite her fatigue, Artemis connects the dots, and she's dumbfounded by her conclusion. "The Son of Poseidon is responsible for the blizzard that has been blanketing about half the country for the past few days? Because of a fight with his partner?"

Artemis fails to comprehend how the demigod achieved creating a disaster of such magnitude and scale, let alone his ability to maintain it for multiple days.

Jason cringes. "Well, when you say it like _that_ … but essentially, yes. The camp's weather barrier holds back as much as it can, but it's not enough. It's been raining here since the very beginning, and the only people happy about things are the naiads."

"When exactly was this fight?!" Artemis can't recall the last time a demigod pulled off something of this scale. Not even the London Fire or the San Francisco Earthquake are close, compared to the sustained effort this blizzard would require.

"Two days ago. He stormed off to the coast." The Son of Jupiter shifts uncomfortably, clearly wishing to depart more than before. "No one was able to find him the first day, and then no one was willing to try anymore after the weather took a turn for the worse. Even I can't find him."

The goddess's gaze hardens, her silver irises steel. However inadvertently, she's back at one of the few exact locations she's been trying to avoid, places filled to the brim with memories she's doesn't want to remember. The Hunt's normal hunting routes. Olympus. Even Camp Half Blood, despite however little she spent her time at the demigod haven.

But the gods be damned to Tartarus, she's wanted an excuse to see Percy since that night.

Well, then, but also since he'd spontaneously Iris-Messaged 'Luna' two weeks after that night to see how she was doing. Artemis remembers it only vaguely, despite how recent the call was - it had been relatively short, but sweet and engaging. Enjoyable beyond comprehension, really, as the most defining detail she can recall is that she'd been very distracted. She'd needed to revert appearance to what it had been during the solstice, and then spent the majority of the five minute call worrying if Percy would notice anything wrong.

Regardless of the mishap, and how little she remembered of the actual call … Percy's attempt to keep in touch with her had astonished her. She hadn't expected to make that much of an impression in his life - mortal life, especially demigod life, after all, was extremely short. Why would there be any time for such a small moment in his life? He didn't have the time to consider and ruminate over every experience like she did. Mortals burned fast - bright, perhaps, but fast.

Yet he'd taken note of her, and went out of his way to contact her, remembering her name and spending a drachma. A touching move, from a male. Perhaps the act had been something natural to Perseus she'd never known, that he was overly friendly and social and did this consistently with everyone he met. Although she doubted that - nonetheless, even if that was the truth, the boy's - no, man's compassion had been absurdly poignant.

And now, again, perhaps as unintentionally, he'd piqued Artemis's attention, Percy has brought her to him and fulfilled her wishes, even if at a cost she hadn't been willing to pay.

Well, she pays the price right now. And that is all the reason for her at the very least get what she desires. The goddess has a certain male to hunt down.

After a moment's hesitation, she sharply extricates herself from the bench and stalks off towards the end of the mess hall, opposite from where she had arrived. She's rejuvenated enough energy from her rest to move at a steady pace again, even if a bit more sedate after her previous … sprint. She has enough strength for this. Hopefully.

Even if she burns out, it will be worth it.

From behind her, Jason calls. "Lady Artemis?"

"You're dismissed," she states, not even bothering to look back at the boy. She pauses for a moment, staring down the dark hillside that drops off to the coast. She magnifies her aura's light, until it's far brighter than she can ever recall it being before. Then, with a slight intake of breath, she confidently steps past the screen of wind that the Son of Jupiter had placed around the pavilion.

The storm drenches her in a second. Moreover, despite how blinding her radiance felt a step before, it's choked down faster than a speeding arrow. The rain is somehow worse than before - despite her efforts, her aura is about as bright as when she'd entered camp. Perhaps it's a sign that she's approaching the Son of the Sea's location? An optimistic, and, for the moment, unquantifiable hope. It is at best an approximate, though, if her only tactic is to push towards where the storm feels stronger.

But it's the only idea she has right now, besides the general knowledge she received of 'he's at the coast.' It's no doubt impossible to use any conventional form of tracking him down, as any relevant scents and tracks wears away quickly in such heavy rain (not that she knows his scent - not at all, _totally_ telling the truth - didn't memorize any such detail two months ago - that would be _ridiculous_ ). And the possibility of tracking Percy through the perception of his immortal heritage/powers is also nullified by the rain - now that she's looking for it, Percy's distinct imprint floods her higher senses through the sheer presence within every single raindrop.

Behind her, the torchlight extinguishes.

Now or - now.

Artemis is far more careful on the trip down. It's a challenge to not rush, as there's a good inch or so of runoff that constantly pulls at her feet to drag her faster. But before she knows it, she's at the coast. The culmination of the high tide (not the highest, that was tomorrow with the new moon) and the storm has left little of the beach shore to stand on, and each step sinks deep into the wet sands.

The rain is feels marginally more intense, but for all Artemis knows, she may only be imagining the slight difference in strength. Thus, little to do but choose a direction to explore. She turns west, circling a half worn dune. Another bolt of lightning flashes, and she pauses as the thunder rolls by.

Sighing away the shivers in her spine, the goddess begins to move forward once more. Then, six different alarms blare in her head. Instinctively, she turns around and immediately spots a raven haired, disheveled lump of a human being snoring away right behind her.

Or at least, she assumes he's snoring. She can't hear anything over the dense plitter-platters of rain on ocean and sand.

How … just _how_ … did the campers not find him? If she was feeling fair, she'd recognize that Percy probably hadn't been literally _right there_ _just down from the Mess Hall_ at the very beginning, and that they might've given up on searching for him after the first day, but …

No. Father above, demigods were brain dead idiots.

Artemis stands there above Percy. The moment stretches on as she regards him. However torturous the bullets of water are upon her sore body …

What in Hades does she do now?

…

The demigod is still laying there, murmuring in his sleep. Not only that, but the damned Son of the Sea is effortlessly dry. Truly effortlessly - she has no doubt he's fully out of it, and still demigod remains free from any of the side-effects or consequences of the mayhem he's caused.

…

Holy - BLOODY - FUCK, screw it!

The goddess kicks, left leg swiftly snapping forth like a whip. Her boot connects to his calf hard enough to outright snap the average mortal's bones like a twig.

When in doubt, violence is an answer. Oh, it's not the right one (at least, most of time), but it certainly _is_ one. And always oh so satisfactory.

Vaguely, she senses the incoming wave behind her brew larger than any previous wave so far. Nimbly, she leaps inland to the rockier shore, only just slipping out of range from the crashing sea. Her landing sticks badly, and she winces, falling on her right knee.

The last time Artemis felt this exhausted, physically and mentally, was after the fight against Typhon. But, movement in her peripherals - no time for thoughts as she tenses in anticipation -

"-ing schist, what in the-" splutters Percy, spitting out sand as he rises from the draining tide. "Gods that hurt."

The Huntress relaxes slightly, breathing slowing down as her heart settles. She'll wait for the Son of the Sea to finish whining. So infantile, still rubbing his leg even after the wave had probably healed him.

Two or three minutes later, Artemis wonders if she's overestimated Perseus. He'd taken a moment to assess his leg, but then just relaxed. No visible concern as to what had caused the injury to his limb, or desire to (at minimum) scope out his surroundings. All things considered, it would only take rotating his head a few or so odd degrees around to see her.

She coughs to get his attention, forgetting the surrounding environment drowns out her voice.

Yet Percy hears her.

"Oh - uh, uhm, who are you?" He turns, stammering, rubbing his head in embarrassment. It's easier to see through the sheets of rain, and she can hear his voice clearly at a conversational volume. It seems the Son of Poseidon is, now that he's conscious, dampening the storm around them - like there's a bubble, surrounding them and draining away the force behind the raindrops.

After so long in the intense, roaring weather, she's failed to realize that the water that lands on her now is almost a pleasant sprinkle, and the 'ambient' noise is now truly ambient.

Regardless of how enjoyable the change in pace is, Artemis resists the urge to roll her eyes. Is it his obliviousness, or the results of changing her form around? "Pray tell, Son of the Sea, why do you not know who I am?"

"Well I definitely don't recognize you, even if I haven't really been around camp recently. And if you got into camp, you're not a threat. You are glowing silver …" The penny drops. "Oh. Lady Artemis."

The short bow that Percy performs catches the Moon goddess off guard. It's minimal - at best a quarter of a full bow. Absolutely insulting in terms of proper conduct, yet even the attempt of formality throws her off kilter. She finds the gesture to be far too … awkward?

Somehow, it's a transgression from the behavior she's come to expect from him, however admittedly few times Artemis has interacted with Percy. Stranger even that she would expect other mortals (and even lower-class immortals) to acknowledge her with a reasonable degree of respect.

For the life of her, she can't decipher why the action distresses her so very much. "No need for that, Perseus."

The demigod frowns. The movement of the facial muscles places the wear and tear of his condition into sharp relief under her light. "Uhm … no need for what? Lady Artemis?"

The last usage of her title and name is tagged on hurriedly, as if to keep from offending her by his manner. Ironic, considering his form of address irritates her beyond comprehension.

Instead, as evenly as she can state: "Bowing. The formalities."

 _Because you didn't do it at the solstice,_ she wants to add. _Because you didn't do it when you Iris-Messaged me._

That had been a trial, ducking away from her Hunters and changing to alter her age and features to what it had been when she'd been Luna. Though … as troublesome as that had been, she now often finds herself wishing for another call. So much so that her body retains Luna's age of 16 over her previous 'average hunter age' of 12 to make any necessary appearance change more convenient.

And she has yet to receive another call.

Oh, why does she feel like this?

 _Because it somehow feels more natural - more right - without._

"Sorry, what? Why?" Percy's brow furrows, eyes squinting at her in abject disbelief.

She waves her hand to the side dismissively, despite her inner turmoil. "Humor me, Perseus."

The reserved look Percy gives her is alien and strange. His cautious attitude, so unfamiliar, prickles away uncomfortably at her very soul. "As you wish."

And with that token, confused acceptance, the short-lived exchange falls flat. She is left with naught, just to stare at him - and it's not a pretty sight. His clothes are severely disheveled, jacket only half on with dry sand paradoxically clinging to his shirt and jeans. His reddened eyes and discolored eye bags along with his slumped posture are too telling of his exhaustion. Even his normally more lively hair falls flat, as if the rain actually affects it.

"What?" Percy snaps abruptly, no doubt because of her intense inspection. Artemis's eyes dart away from his unkempt visage, especially his accusing gaze. But glancing back, his eyes immediately soften into something much more _close_ and _familiar_ but still somehow _disheartening_ , especially along with the grimace that follows.

"My apologies, milady. I'm just a bit … tired," he supplies, nodding minutely to himself. "Tired, that's it." He stifles a yawn. "On edge."

The goddess relaxes, fully focusing on him once more. Indeed, he looks as bad as she currently feels, ready to collapse into the sand. For all intents and purposes, she understands that he and Annabeth are close. Nonetheless, she had not anticipated him being in such a terrible condition. Did such an argument really destabilize him so much?

Then again, that is a stupid question. A really, really, stupid question, as her light and the surrounding storm so reveals. Well - "Have you considered the source of your exhaustion to be the storm you dredged up from the depths?"

"Huh?" He looks at her blankly, and it's all she can do not to either turn him into a forest critter or gut him with an arrow. Or both. Her fuse has long since burned to a nub, and it's some unknown wistfulness that's keeping her tolerant. Just. Barely. Something about it being Percy, that his obliviousness is tolerable, despite everything. For now.

Artemis tightens her jaw subconsciously, before arching an eyebrow and shaking her head in exasperation. "Do you … do you even know what you're doing as of this moment? Do you still fail to realize the extent of your powers?"

The Son of the Sea takes that moment to gaze at the natural disaster around him. The goddess takes that opportunity to move in slightly closer to better gauge his life force.

 _Holy …_

The idiot had set off a storm that was _still_ draining away at the essence of his very soul, yet he still had a decent chunk of his power left to spare. Scratch him knowing his own limits, does she even know how truly strong he is? The last demigod of equivalent power was probably _Hercules_. Regardless of how much of a bastard that minor god was, you couldn't deny his ridiculous strength.

Yet Percy … just, what? Artemis simply fails to comprehend. When Percy had taken the burden of the sky, his life force had been far less. And even then she'd originally thought he'd been well-rested at Mount Othrys, due to his strength and vigor matching that of a far above average demigod at the time. At least, before she noticed how exhausted he was. Moreover, while his current power is about five times that several years ago, he is arguably far more burnt out now. Just how many times did his power multiply in so many years?

"This was done by me?" At Artemis's nod, Percy shakes his head in disbelief. "Wha- I didn't even notice - realize - I didn't even mean to!"

"Yet sometimes emotions get the best of us," she mutters softly. "What happened, Perseus?"

His sudden wary gaze, however slight that that particular emotion comes across, jars her.

She's taken her previous anonymity for granted, she realizes. It had been merely a taste, essentially one meeting, for the span of an hour (and another five minutes), but … the ease that she'd been able to communicate with Perseus, posing as a complete stranger - without the baggage of being the Goddess of the Moon and Hunt - had been _incredible_.

It was a subtly revolutionary special dimension to the bond she now shares only with Percy - that _Luna_ shares with Percy - freedom. Freedom, as in no baggage from the very reputation of _being_ Artemis. Baggage, from a role she needs to play that she never consciously realized restricts her until now.

… and …

That tiny little epiphany is heartrending.

She can't even remember the last time when she she wasn't simply going through the motions, or a conversation she shared with anyone that wasn't full of pretense or duty. Everything, locked by precedent or falsehoods or high society political empty niceties. Even within her tight-knit group of Hunters, she's constantly withholds information. In present day, she's done that even more than ever before. What had originally been a close sisterhood has deteriorated into a half-distant relationship between mistress and servants.

Even Zöe had become relatively distant over the centuries, however close she'd initially been after her tragic beginnings. And Artemis isn't sure if it's the result of the actions of those close to her, or her fault to begin with. She can't tell which is worse.

And, and after millennia of routine distancing … the only breath of fresh air Artemis manages, no, _managed_ to steal - her single opportunity to be _real_ and _genuine_ , interested and engaged and feeling the full range of emotions that she hadn't even been aware she'd ever lost - is because of a farce.

The evidence is laid out, all too bare and irrefutable before her. She sees it in Percy's distant gaze, his slight frown, his folded arms, and his rigid stance. So, so different than the open and bright and trusting personality she met during the solstice and conversed with over Iris Messaging.

She sees it in her own ragged breath, her worn heart, and her torn soul.

What fact was worse? Was it achieving some form of happiness previously unachievable by pretending to be Luna? Or was it her current torture from being Artemis, who she was?

And if - if she feels true, _real_ , as Luna - what does that say for her normal, her usual life?

Artemis forces down her troubles to focus on what is more immediately important - Perseus. She swallows, mouth dry from apprehension.

"If nothing else," she begins, "You mu-"

"A-" Percy interrupts, finally answering. "A… disagreement." Percy's response is tight and unyielding. Behind him, the ocean churns in concert with the demigod's visible turmoil.

Artemis, in search of stability, sits down on the last of the grass before the sands of the beach. The demigod follows her example, sitting back into the dune from which she roused him from.

Deep breath.

Artemis sighs, loosening the tension (or at least, her own). "The storm must cease, Son of the Sea." Her voice barely carries over the diminished sound of rain.

"I don't even know I started it!" he retorts in a snap. "How do you expect me to stop it?"

Despite her exhaustion, she all too easily senses the emotions he conveys instinctively. It's in the inflections and nuances of his voice, and the unconscious physical language of his body. Hurt. Apathy. Contempt. The essence of the desire to strike against everyone and everything else for the wrongs done to him. On the verge of being unhinged, broken.

"Either way, you must stop the storm." She continues undeterred, regardless of Percy's mood. She needs to stop this. Unlike the cabins, there's definitely someone to witness her lose control again. And this particular person she can't polymorph or kill, she doesn't … doesn't _want_ to polymorph or kill. What options are left? "It is not fair for half of the country to suffer because of your disagreement."

"But! But!" Percy gestures wildly. Artemis almost smiles at how cute and amusing the frustrated movement is, despite the undercurrent of anxiety. "What in Hades has fairness done for me?"

Artemis cocks her head, momentarily considering the demigod.

"Why in Hades should I f $&ing care?"

The goddess wonders whether the fact that he is so outrightly disrespectful means something. Trust in her, or that he is that wounded?

She's crazy, she shouldn't be thinking about that. Focus on the problem.

She can leave, let him fend for himself and possibly crumble into a stereotypical twisted and selfish boy that she expects of males. It doesn't that an oracle to know that will likely be the path he will take. Or, she can intervene, help him in his moment of weakness. Pull him back up, support him and allow him to be the respectable man he has been. That he can be.

That he will be.

But how?

The answer comes to her, and she abruptly rises to a crouch. Her silver aura dims, before flaring even brighter yet.

She holds out her left arm, twists and replants her body. The goddess lines up her right hand with at a position approximately next to the inside of her left elbow, plucking something imaginary from thin air.

"Wha-?" Percy starts, before falling silent and pulling out his pen. Smart man.

Standing, she draws her arm back, and a bow, with its string taut and nocked with an arrow, shimmers into existence in her grasp. The Son of the Sea draws his sword in response - oh, Riptide, oh Z-Zö- … no time for that.

Because sometimes, violence _is_ the answer.

Maybe it's only a temporary solution. Maybe it's unhealthy to physically let it out and risk injury.

But here and now, it'll distract him from his demons.

…

It'll distract her from her demons.

…

Artemis inhales.

Tightens.

Steps back, soundless against the storm.

Exhales.

Releases.

Sweeping his sword, Percy deflects an arrow while perfectly placing himself between her next two immediate shots. Not her best work, but those were mainly to distract and feel out while she learns how much she needs to compensate for the force of the wind and rain on her shots.

The following three shots are on exactly on target this time, forcing Percy to dodge, delaying his approach as he draws ever closer. But then, strangely he flares his wrist, and his watch gleams.

Before the next volley lands, a beautifully crafted shield she had no idea he possessed spirals out to protect him. All her arrows glance off, even though she placed enough sheer power behind her bolts to puncture through conventional celestial bronze.

Behind Percy, another wave crashes, and she's forced to retreat as half-random blobs launch themselves at her in the dozens. A blink of the eye later, and a horde of arrows slices forth. The burst of luminescence simultaneously cuts apart Percy's projectiles and disorients the demigod.

Her opening to attack. Artemis leaps away from the blind slice of his sword, then plants her foot within his guard. Using him as a platform, she jumps upward to rain silver down at him while launching him back to the ocean. By the time she lands, she at best cuts into his leg - he's so fast in his element - but the wound is swiftly healed by the sheer volume of water surrounding them. But he's already charging back, so she launches an absolute wall of arrows that forces the demigod to fall under the waves, and soon enough she's left standing there with more arrows primed at the sea.

…

Is she smiling right now, doing this?

The question is rendered immaterial when the following wave moves further towards her than naturally possible. While she's swift enough to pedal backwards away from the crash, Percy flies forth from the water to slash at her.

The flash of gleaming bronze light from Riptide is beautiful - as if her lieutenant had returned from the stars above, just to wink at her.

The demigod looks furious - it seems more arrows than she thought had landed, as his shirt is in tatters. The shield is put away, and he holds the sword two handed. She can't escape - he's too close.

Artemis catches the heavy blow with her bow, bending with the force of it until she parries it, before rebounding and body slamming him back with all the strength she has left. Percy staggers from the unconventional strike, and the goddess uses the time to shift gear. She can't gain range advantage anymore - the bow in her hand breaks into two and melts into knives, and she braces herself for the close quarters confrontation.

Swipe. Suck in her gut, follow through, slide by.

Turn, parry, sidestep, jab.

Duck - trip him, slice down.

Jump away before he takes out her legs.

Flip a grip as he stands, throw -

He avoids, but slide in, sweeping kick, knock him down again;

Snatch her knife, roll into a crouch, bound away from his grab.

Turn around. Breath. Pause.

Mutual assessment.

Reengage.

The goddess loses herself in the duel. Her advantages, agility and godly resilience, are matched by Percy's water enhancement and longer reach. Despite her best efforts, she can never fully get into the right range to gut her opponent, while he can't match her superior, experienced footwork.

It's a dance; interplay and mirrors. One attack begets another, cause and effect in a perpetual cycle. Blades swirl past each other, and clash together before separating. The steps are rhythmic, electric, drawing the partner further along before forcing them back.

There. An opportunity, a hole in his attack. Feinting, she glides under the edge of Riptide and cuts a deep wound into his forearm. Unexpectedly, instead of holding onto his weapon, Percy simply lets the sword fly away and uses the opportunity to literally drop on top her. The reciprocation of her earlier unorthodox tactics - he's trying to even the exchange; his weight lands awkwardly on her leg, and he utilizes the moment to actually _peel a knife from her grip_ before tumbling away.

But it's too late, his effort is futile. There's no time to form another knife, but it's no longer necessary to. Even though his landing on her leg seems to have damaged some muscles or twisted her ankle, she's eliminated his advantage. His longer range is gone, and it's as easy as bullseye from a twenty meters to exploit the demigod's inexperience with a knife.

A few more exchanges later, and he's almost on his knees. He holds the knife he stole half-heartedly up, as if it could possibly ward her away. One final bound, and Percy drops to dodge - she tries to adjust, but then her leg fails her, and he's trying to scramble away. Giving up on her footing, also falls, using the momentum to snatch her blade back with her left hand before tucking the point of the other beneath his chin.

Victory.

Artemis freezes.

Except … Riptide's bronze blade is mere millimeters from entering her chest.

Huh.

The remnants of a wave bubbles up to them, enveloping them in a half foot of water. She's on her left side, propped up on her left arm, her right arm under his left and with a knife at his throat. But while on his right side, his left arm is across his body, holding himself up so his own right hand is free at his waist. His hand, with a whitening grip holding onto the handle of the sword threatening to critically hurt her.

The blade returns to the owner. While clearly hurt and tired - the cut she'd made mere moments ago was only half healed - part of Percy's mistakes must have been faked. Looking for an opportunity to ditch Riptide, then bring it out again for a surprise. A bait, forcing the match into a semblance of a draw. Perseus would always die if she landed a lethal blow, while no such wounds would truly be fatal to her. Or at least, only temporarily.

Nonetheless …

She looks up from the leaf-shaped blade, and their eyes meet.

 _Perseus is laughing at me._

His sea-green eyes glint in the silver light, and the most cocky little smirk tells the entire story.

Around them, the drizzle is now all encompassing, no longer just their diluted bubble in the storm.

Hopefully that means the storm is gone. That he's been exhausted. She's too weary herself to care to check. Too weary to do anything more.

A rivulet of water makes its way down her cheek.

Artemis slowly pulls her knife away, then minutely exhales in relief as he mirrors her action. Her voice comes out raspy. "Better?"

She's moving to stand, and he's about to speak, but the leg Percy yanked gives, and Artemis topples forward. Surprised, Percy can do nothing but drop his pen and go with the flow of the sudden weight.

Oh.

Artemis blushes as she's put face to face on top of an equally reddened Percy. Her center of gravity is on the other side of his body, so she flushes even more as she rolls over him, before completely giving up on moving any further.

She's truly run out of fuel. After constant stress, this is her respite.

"Better," Percy pants in agreement. She's too drained to even turn her head to look at him, but his voice sounds … loose. Happy. "I needed that."

The awkwardness and strain from their previous conversation flees, leaving only a pleasant buzz of emptiness behind. She's not sure how long they lie there, silent and gazing up into the darkness.

"Thank you, mila- Artemis."

All that's left is catharsis.

"You … you are welcome."

Just him and her, in their own little world.

Lethargically, her hand drifts toward his hand.

Percy pulls himself up into a sitting position. Artemis pulls her hand back. Some undesired emotion swells up within her. Anger? Disappointment? Confusion?

"I should get back," he says quietly. The drizzle peters out completely. "Too many things to do."

Artemis closes her eyes and enunciates a single sound. "Hm?"

"See how Thalia's doing, I guess. Resolve certain … certain disagreements," the demigod elaborates. From the shifting pressure and weight, she's pretty sure he's stood up. However, it doesn't disappear, nor can she hear him splash back into the camp.

"Get everyone prepped to lose in Capture the Flag to the Hunters again, I guess?" he tries to joke.

The goddess opens her eyes to see his hand before her to help her up.

…

She accepts it silently.

…

Percy groans quietly as he pulls her up. When he lets go, they both lurch. Before she slips once again, the ever so gallant demigod steadies her by holding her arm. Artemis doesn't even have it in herself to blush anymore as she gazes almost passively at him. It's an alien sight and sensation, seeing a male now inserting himself carefully under her arm to better support her weight.

Yet … how it feels is a completely different story.

"Did I really do that much of a number on you?" He asks under his breath.

"Tch. I'll be fine." She tries to wave him off, but almost collapses again when he extricates himself. This time what prevents her fall is his arms around her waist.

Can she embarrass herself any further? She sighs, happy and miserable. As comfortable as his embrace is … "Just help me back over to the beach."

The short distance takes an age to travel, but eventually they arrive. She finds it in herself to stand stably on her own, and stares out over the much more tranquil sea.

Beside her, Percy pulls back, silent.

There's nothing to say.

…

After a minute, he turns to leave.

For some reason, she speaks. Voicing her own issues, Artemis supposes, however guarded.

"I don't think the Hunters will win this year," she whispers, nearly choking over the words. She's not even sure Perseus heard what she said.

Try as you might to avoid reality, you can never avoid the consequences of trying to avoid reality. And when it arrives … it returns with the might of the Master Bolt.

Artemis does the best she can to divest her face of liquid. Rain, that is. Though if there had been any tears mixed in, they were gone too.

Though he isn't. She hasn't heard him leave. She can't look at him.

One final touch on her arm. She's unsure if it surprises her anymore.

Turning oh so slowly, she takes in the demigod's tentative smile. It's hardly even there, she's hesitant to even call it a smile. But there's the same tinge of melancholy to his otherwise sympathetic eyes - the acknowledgement and understanding of the emotions that her previous words had contained. An effort to convey remorse and sorrow, to grieve with her and comfort her.

He steps in closer - his other arm rises, as if t-to approach, and, and - em-embrace her. Closer, closer, clo- … stopped.

He's far too close and far too far, even as his hand is still on her arm. He squeezes gently before drawing in a breath.

"May I …" Percy stops momentarily, searching for his words. He takes another deep breath. "Permission … permission to join your team, Artemis?"

Expressing everything and nothing at the same time. What a wonderful contradiction …

Her shy nod receives a more confident, a more true smile in return.

And then he's gone.

As she'd expected, she hears every step resounding in the darkness. The sounds of each and every splish and splash he makes as he departs - the sounds fade away.

Artemis faces the sea once more, towards where the moon lies beyond the horizon.

…

The new moon brings the high tide.


	3. Fantasy's Divide

" _Some days it storms, some days it shines. That is how flowers grow." Pavana_

* * *

A shock almost-sky blue liquid trickles down Artemis's throat. It tingles and tickles - but the oh so familiar sensation no longer burns like it had a few hours ago.

She wishes everything else could be so easily desensitized.

It's her, what? Eighth … maybe twelfth glass? Nah, she's long past that. If anything it's in the thirties, more likely the forties. It takes at least two dozen shots of most mortal alcohols for her to begin even remotely feeling intoxicated, and she's _definitely_ feeling it right now.

Though this recipe … hm … the rest of the contents of the martini glass disappears, gone with a single swallow. This recipe seems more … potent than the average. Low thirties.

The goddess blearily stares righ- … no, left, out through the window she's sidled up against. Nothing new to see. The city lights twinkle as vehicle after vehicle pass by. The vaguely lightening sky further outshines the already sparsely visible stars. The supermoon peeks out from behind a few clouds, ever nearing the horizon, radiant and full.

And just beyond the slightly frosted window, the transparent visage of deathly pale young woman stares back at her with bloodshot silver eyes.

She turns back to her table. Her glass is full again. Father above, she's so out of it she didn't even notice the attendant refill her drink. It had been in her hand, too.

At least she didn't have to call for another one herself. Far too much trouble to, tucked as deep as she is in the corner of the dimly lit bar. Artemis is fairly surprised that she's the only one left. Then again, there's far less reason for most people to get sloshed in the middle of March. And, after pulling out a few golden drachmas, the patron was more than happy to let her stay past happy hour and attend to everything she asked for.

The goddess shakes her head as static tingles in her stiff legs and interferes her thoughts. She pulls her legs up to rest beside her, and lets go of her drink to in order to rub some feeling back into her sleeping thighs.

Tap tap tap goes another drachma on the table, loosely bounced about by her other hand. A few inches away, a clear crystal sits bright and innocent on the dark stained wood of the table. Or rather, almost clear - the prism contains fluid light, the colors of the rainbow braiding into itself and refracting ad infinitum. Such a pretty weaving …

She wants to - no, _needs_ to talk to someone. But even having thought about it for … how long? Ah, who cares. Fact is, there's no one to call. It had been in forethought, to keep this device and a drachma on her since her capture, for emergency scenarios. Yet …

Artemis contemplates the shallow depths of her drink. For all the family that the Olympians are supposed to be, she can't imagine going to any of them. Father would never understand, and she isn't comfortable approaching either Uncle. Hera would never help - not that she ever did, that jealous bint - and Demeter is just plainly too uselessly ditzy to talk with. None of the others were worth more than a minute's consideration, either. The gods in particular were too big-headed and ridiculous, especially her brother (if he could still viably be considered an Olympian). The exception in regards to being an idiot, Hephaestus, was too emotionally stunted, not to mention unfamiliar. And the the only goddess she could trust and respect to have a decent talk with is Athena - but Artemis also doesn't know her well enough to want to share any intimate information.

Wait. She remembers someone that hasn't been on her mind in decades. Aunt What'shername. It takes a moment for the goddess's slightly fogged mind to remember properly. Aunt Hestia. Artemis hasn't talked with her in at least a century, but she's trustworthy and kind and probably has good advice. Always happy to take care of family, at the least.

She reaches out, and her hand flops sloppily beside the crystal. The goddess frowns, then tries again. This time, her touch activates the device, and it looses a painfully bright rainbow towards the ceiling. If memory serves the goddess correctly (despite her inebriated state), she's supposed to say the name of who she wants to call?

With her system as poisoned as it is, the drachma slips from her hand before she throws it. Searching for where it rolled off to without falling from her seat is more difficult than she would like to admit. Eventually, though, the gold coin makes its way through the multihued array of lights.

"Hesst-iia." The goddess frowns slightly and pinches her leg. It's too undignified for her to speak with a slur in her speech. "Hestia." She corrects, before mumbling under her breath to exercise her voice.

The rainbow flickers, then changes. Her frown deepens when an unfamiliar girl in a far too intensely yellow shirt appears over the Iris-Message. Artemis might not have paid much attention to how Hestia chose to present herself in recent times, but this definitely wasn't her. The girl's eyes do not hold the comforting flickers of the hearth, and her clothes were not of earthier tones.

"Sorry, your call got redirected!" the girl bubbles. Her head bounces when she smiles, sending frizzy white hair flying to and fro. "Hestia's having her guru teatime with Iris right now, and that takes priority! Would you like to leave a message? Actually, no, I won't remember it, and there's nothing to write with around here. Is there anyone else you would like to connect to, Lady Artemis?"

The Huntress's brow furrows. "What?"

"You already paid, so I gotta send this call somewhere! No refunds, you know? Company policy. But then it's also bad business to just take your money like that, so…" the strange girl elaborates. She leans in, analyzing Artemis with big black/gray/white eyes. Strange. Hypnotizing. "Anyways, maybe you want to leave a message?"

There's only the barest pause for a breath to listen for a possible response, and then the girl's aggravating voice continues. "Wait, didn't I already ask that? No? Maybe? Ah hell, probably best not to anyways, my memory's pretty sketch. So is there anyone you wanna redirect to? Surely you gotta have someone in mind?" Another second's wait. "Maybe there's someone we can find in your call log!"

What? Artemis opens her mouth to protest, but it's too late.

"Very short list you got here," the girl comments as she pulls a file from thin air. "And our logs go back a thousand years! Then again," she peers off somewhere beyond Artemis's view, "Gods don't really use our messaging service. Yours is like … actually, no, it just _is_ the longest log out of the Olympians. Weird. Anyways! Let's take a look."

Artemis facepalms, before draining the rest of her shot. She is simply not drunk enough to deal with the fool's incessant chattering.

"Oh. Wow, all received calls, four in three months, and all from one person. And - cool, look who it is! Do me a solid and tell him that Fleecy says hi!" The girl waves with far too much excitement as she delivers the information. Even after as the visual imprint of a far too vivid yellow shirt has faded from her rainbow screen, Artemis is clueless as to what just happened in the past minute.

Like, it was … What? … Who? Whatever, she'll deal with it. She refills her glass, and then tips up her drink again.

A defined, tanned, and above all glistening wet torso pops into frame.

Artemis manages to restrain herself from choking on her cocktail. Still, some spittle unwillingly splutters out. Blushing, she quickly snabs a napkin to clean up the slight spill she made. It's convenient, as it helps distract her and averts her eyes from the … display, and by the time she glances back she sees the whole of Perseus Jackson, not merely his toned chest. She can certainly still see what she saw moments before, as he's standing about only wearing a swim trunk with a towel over his shoulders.

"Luna!" exclaims the demigod, not seeming the least fazed about how exposed he is. "I was planning to call you soon! What's up, how's things going?"

"W-why are you - you even wet?!" Artemis stammers, doing her best not to look at Percy anywhere besides his face. "And get dressed!"

"Oh! Sorry, I thought it'd be better to just accept the call sooner than wait a while to clean up. Didn't think it would bother anyone. And what was the other thing? Oh! I went for a morning swim, since senior year's kinda been stressful recently. Keep getting behind because I _still_ keep getting sidetracked by helping demigods get to camp or fighting off a few monsters. At least I have all my credits for graduation already - don't have to worry about any of that crap." The Son of the Sea quickly wipes down the rest of his upper body before beginning to dry off his hair. "And it's not like I've never gotten wet before, y'know. Before I was a demigod, at least. It would've been very strange when I went swimming and didn't get wet. Also, it just doesn't feel right not getting wet when swimming, y'know?"

Percy reaches somewhere out of sight, grabbing a purple shirt that he quickly dons. Artemis manages one final peek at his abs before relief (disappointment) floods through her.

Father be damned, her emotions are already too turbulent at the moment to have another storm added to it on top of everything.

What does she say now? Artemis wasn't expecting any sort of this encounter anytime soon; it was definitely the work of something beyond Tyche that she'd used her 'Luna' appearance as of late. She doesn't even recall how their last correspondence had ended. With the amount of alcohol she has consumed, her mind is far too fuzzy to recall concrete details.

Speaking of alcohol …

She reaches for her glass again.

"Hey, is that a blue drink?" asks Percy, peering closely. The sunlight at his location reflects off his eyes as he leans in for a better look. "Wait … is that alcohol?"

" _Memento Mori_." Artemis recites the drink's name. "A house special."

It's not the first time she's been at this establishment, wishing that the name - the phrase - actually held true. The bar she's at is ancient. Minor immortals and monsters for have run the bar for centuries, moving from one wealthy city to the next with the rest of civilization's fire.

One way or another, she always found herself nursing the drink once a century.

"..." Percy frowns, observing her quietly. Artemis takes that moment to sip some more of the blue liquid, before looking back out the window. The moon is leaving her, only the barest sliver of silver still above the horizon. "Are you ok, Luna?"

 _No, I'm not._ Artemis rubs an eye, then smooth her hair back. "I don't … I don't want to talk of it."

Again, silence. Or, near enough silence - the barest ambience of the deathly quiet bar, and the vaguest hint of noise across the call.

Artemis hates these Iris Messages so much. She wants nothing more than to talk to him, yet so much of it is a fabrication. It's falsehood after falsehood, whenever Percy asks for her to tell him more about herself; and only pretense of understanding of his life when he discusses mortal issues she at best only comprehends. For the most part, discussion of academics and school and family - anything quintessentially mortal - was difficult.

She wants to learn more. Even staying away from the cities of man for so long, she can't help when her curiosity is piqued by the various developments. Artemis has always been inquisitive, but how could she ask questions to matters 'she' should know about? How could she learn more about the only man she wants to know better?

Just to complicate things further, she scarcely recalls what details she's given about her 'life' as Luna. She hadn't devoted enough thought to for earlier calls, and the vague fragments of who she pretended to be are muddled by alcohol. What information did she has she even given out about her persona?

Of course, those topics hadn't been solely what the previous calls had been comprised of. Beyond the call she'd received before seeing him at camp, the demigod has called her thrice more.

Whenever he did, they discussed things beyond the artificial, superficial, and personal. Things like philosophy, because of his Government and Psychology classes. Living for millennia really let her cheat on some of the topics in those little arguments. Or the differences between the mythological world and the mortal world, because that was a subject she could comfortably enter, even if her perspective was _vastly_ different. Hobbies and interests were also another safe topic - though she'd refrained from mentioning hunting, saying horse-riding instead. They'd even talked about various arts and musics - she'd never considered artwork from the internet or movie score music until he'd described some of his favorites. They were recent innovations, after all, the former especially so. And books! She keeps track of literature - a book is always nice when resting in her tent. Even if Percy didn't particularly enjoy reading, Artemis was surprised to learn he enjoyed _The Great Gatsby_ and _1984_. She's looking forward to hearing his thoughts on _The Stranger_.

Of everything she wants to hear about, she wishes he'd talk more of books. They're the biggest link she has to the mortal world and understanding how mortals think, and a mortal's deliberations on texts she's pored over would be magnificent. The few thoughts he presented have already recontextualized her own understandings of the relevant stories.

She'd never expected such insights from him. She'd never expected how original and new he is, compared to all of the people she's met in the last millennia.

After all, she's never truly seen how an actual mortal thinks. A radically new perspective of a fairly mature male, especially compared to that of frankly _very_ similar young girls century after century. Girls who, more and more as of recent, do not truly understand how truly blessed their lives were compared to that of ages past.

Talking with percy was simultaneously like a sweet release of breath, and a duty heavier than the mountains. Both a relief and a burden.

It was wonderful. It was torture.

… It is wonderful. It is torture.

Artemis desires the calls so desperately, but she can't help but hate them too. Every call is an upwelling of emotions from both ends, that, unfelt at such a degree for so long, feels foreign.

Percy shifts uncomfortably - Artemis has been silent too long, lost in her thoughts. "Lemme just -" Touching the surface of the projection, the Iris Message flickers, before bending to his will. It follows him as he drops down to the ground, to sit slouched against some wall to better address Artemis. "Do you still want to talk about something else?"

She nods slowly. "Yes. But ..."

"Hm?" Her correspondent straightens and scoots back. Artemis watches as his right hand idly traces something on the ground.

Deep breath. "Let's … let's ... just talking. Nothing …"

"Sensitive?" the demigod questions, and Artemis can't help but reflect how much more intuitive he is compared to before. To when he'd yelled at her, not even knowing who she was.

"Sure," Artemis agrees, finishing the rest of her drink. "Like …" She fishes through her mind for some simple and shallow question she's heard before. "If you could have anyone as a dinner guest, who?"

Percy stifles a chuckle, and his eyes sparkle. "So, icebreakers?"

"What? It makes you think, doesn't it?" retorts the goddess. She'd heard similar questions many times before, amongst h-her - her followers. "You think of the next one then."

"Yeah, I think I can do better," smiles Percy, clearly trying to take no offense despite her prickly attitude. "Hm … someone to eat with? I suppose … does it have to be a dinner guest?"

"What do you mean?" Artemis glances at him suspiciously, through a fog of intoxication. The amount of alcohol she'd consumed - scratch that, she's consuming (she drinks another mouthful) is really making her mood unstable.

"What about being the guest of someone else's dinner? Like, I'd honestly want to drop in on a god' meal than invite them to eat with me," Percy explains. "Or just, even, y'know, having a meal. Nothing big and fancy, just food."

"Which god or goddess?" she asks. His hesitance to actually answer the question draws her interest.

"Well … actually, I don't think I'd want to eat with any god except Father. Goddesses … pretty much the same, too. I would say Hestia, if I didn't already do that. Maybe Artemis?"

If the goddess in question had been drinking at that moment, she would've spat everything out. "I think you need to elaborate on that."

"Heh. Yeah, that might sound a bit strange. Well, I really haven't seen gods eat anything besides ambrosia and nectar at parties, or Mr. D eating grapes and drinking Diet Coke. And Diet Pepsi that one time. But then most of the gods don't like me, or I'd rather not eat with, so there's only Father. Like, I can't even imagine Hephaestus needing to eat." Percy shakes his head to dispel the image. "And the same goes for most of the goddesses. Only Hestia do I feel would be kind enough, but, as I've said, I've already eaten with her. Still do sometimes at camp, actually. So the only goddess I could think of that tolerates me enough is Artemis, and I'm actually a bit curious as to whether she eats along with her Hunters during meals, so..."

That is a sobering thought. That means she needs to drink more.

"So I guess my dad or Artemis? I think that's good enough. And - how about you have to answer your own question too?" Percy prompts.

She thinks for a few seconds, mind burning through names. She really doesn't have any interest in spending that sort of time with anyone. But then again … no shame in mentioning it (if only because she is intoxicated at the moment). "You."

"Aw, cute," Percy jibes with a tiny lopsided smirk. And is it her eyes deceiving her, or is there some red on his cheeks? "I'm touched."

Well, Artemis is at least very sure her own face is flushed. "What's wrong with that? We've only been in each other's presence once, and talked over a distance. It would be nice to meet in person again!"

"No, no, I get it, I get it," Percy says, smile growing larger. "Seriously, though. Touching. Should I change my answer to being you, then, too?

Oh, how little he knew. "What are you trying to say?"

"That's a good point. We'll see each other again at the Summer Solstice, won't we? Why not meet up? We can always plan for something then."

And just like that, she's pulled into spending the Solstice with him, with a completely unknown agenda. Even inebriated, she knows it's time to steer away. "How about back to now?"

"My turn to make a question?" At her nod, he continues. "What about … hm. What about, would you want to be famous?"

"And that's any better the question I asked?" scoffs Artemis, somewhat delirious.

"Hey," shrugs Percy, "Less cheesy for sure."

Artemis hmphs, trailing a finger over the rim of her glass. "I have no interest in fame." Her head had been big enough in the olden days. She'd gotten almost as cocky as her brother because of … nonono. And in the modern day, she's known well enough as it is. It isn't like she could directly say that, though. "What's so great about being famous? There's too many expectations that come with it."

There is nothing like being held up to the impossible standards of millennia past. Forever.

"It's not like you need to meet those expectations," counters Percy. "Isn't there a good number of people who are famous for just being themselves?"

"Hm? Then instead of being believed to be someone they're not, they're pigeonholed to be the same person forever. I imagine you enjoy it when it happens to you, Son of the Earthshaker, Defeater of Kronos, Hero of Olympus? Any other title I might be missing? One of the Seven? Gaia's Ba-?"

"Touché," interrupts the demigod, dipping his head in acknowledgement. "Yeah … point made, not so fun. Though people are already starting to stop caring. Old news and all that. I'm not _that_ popular. So, your turn for a question again, then?"

If they're playing a question game, she's going to at least take advantage of it. Now for something she's always been curious about. "Do you have a hunch as to how you'll die?"

"Huh."

Artemis takes amount to take in the various emotions that play across Percy's face. Surprise into reluctance, then suspicion and finally trust.

"After all the stress demigod life has given me, I wouldn't be surprised to die in my sleep. Something anticlimactic and ironic," admits Percy readily. "Especially with the prophecy schist done with, I can imagine dying peacefully and not to some huge calamity. Don't even have to imagine what it would like to be, dying in some fight. It's honestly something I've thought about a little before."

The goddess fiddles with the stem of her glass, then raises it to call over the bartender again. What a depressingly hopeful statement. But as for her … well, what could she really say? "I can't imagine how I'd die, honestly."

"Really? Nothing?" Percy cocks an eyebrow at Artemis's slow nod. Death is not the end - not for her.

"Well, aren't you special?" he teases. She only shrugs in response. "My turn again, then. Hm … if you gained a single thing overnight, what would it be?"

"Thing?" This time, she just takes the entire drink mixer from the bartender, who happily allows her to do so. She's able to drink at her own rate, he can stop coming back so often, and everyone 'wins.'

"Like, ability. Super power? Guess it could be an object." Percy attempts to clarify his question. "How about this: if you could get any one thing, what would it be? Literally anything."

Artemis measurably pours out her drink yet again, considering his query. She doesn't really _need_ more powers. She can't think of one that she wants, either. Well, no. She can. But it … that would be worth the cost. And as a goddess, there isn't much she can't acquire. But she can't afford give another non answer again, it would be too suspicious. She sighs heavily.

No powers then. Objects? Even her Hunters, quasi-mortal as they were, were very possessive with their earthly possessions. Perhaps she should make up some trinket? "Jewelry. Something simple, but elegant and high quality. Unique."

"Really?" Her correspondent is taken aback, incredulous at her answer. "I thought you didn't like any jewelry stuff. Like, I don't remember ever seeing you wear any."

"No, I don't," she assents, "I don't like the weight. But if it was good enough … maybe something small. A pop of color? I don't know. Never thought much about it."

She hums, mulling over her answer as she stares into her drink. She tags on one last requirement. "If it was perfect, then yes. I don't know what it would be, but if it was perfect, I would wear it."

Jewelry is always a distraction, going out and about and doing athletic activities. She'd simply never needed or wanted any accessories - she doesn't need them to look good. But there'd always been a spark of curiosity as to whether she'd ever find a piece she'd want. The liters of alcohol she's consumed by this point is plenty of fuel for that little thought. "What about you?"

"I actually really miss my invincibility. I did tell you about that, right? Y'know, from the Styx." He ruffles his hair, and pushes himself to his feet again. Percy gestures to his general bodily area. "I barely had it for like a year, and it sure as Hades was tiring, but it was so nice to be untouchable when fighting. It was almost like being a god, without all the baggage."

He shrugs, amending his answer as he begins walking to some unknown destination. "Well, beyond the tiny little problem of my Achilles' heel. 'Course, power always comes with a price, so I guess that made sense? But something like that again - or better than that - would be nice."

She contemplates his words. With his own frivolous confession out for consideration, her mentioning the desire to be able to raise the dead would've sounded less silly. Only a bit less silly - the prospect of hers is even more impractical than his. Just relatively less.

It really is strange. She'd never spent an extended period of time with someone truly mortal - her Hunters - her Hunters … never really had such a preoccupation with death. So Artemis never really understood just how much of a mortal's thoughts - or Percy's thoughts - revolves around life and survival. There is an underlying urgency and tension to his words - always, 'in the case I die.'

A constant fight for survival, to avoid the permanence of the end.

But she would never be able to comprehend mortality herself, immortal as she was. A barrier she can never overcome … She sips at her drink to help mull over her thoughts. Wait a second - even if she wasn't that familiar with mortal cities and the like … "Just a quick question - not part of our game - where in the world did you find an open swimming pool in New York City on a Sunday morning, with no one around?"

"Oh," laughs Percy, "I was gonna argue that that wasn't fair, but that is kinda a fair question to ask. I kinda have a copy of some of my stepdad's keys to school, just in case. Since he knows about the whole demigod thing, he understands that I should probably have some, just in case. I think you can figure it out from there. I'm heading to his classroom right now."

They both fall silent, and she's left to listen to the echos his flapping flip flops. Her mind returns to a phrase he used in his previous answer. "Follow up question - what were you implying about invulnerability and gods having baggage?

"I guess that's another question that doesn't count?" Percy sighs in jest. "Well, you already know about me choosing not to be immortal. Even the reas- even why I chose not to be. But even without her in the picture, what about everything else? I still want to live, well, a _normal_ life, or as _normal_ as it could be. Dying's a part of that. And what about friends and family? And well - like, I already have a friend who's basically immortal. Dam, it's going to be weird being older than Thalia in a few years. Wait - no, I'm already older than her - wow. It's going to be the strangest thing in ten, twenty years.

"And don't get me started on fighting - schist, I don't want to do that forever. If anything, I might end up like Eurytion - he runs a ranch, don't get me started on that. Like, gods be damned, I've had my time already. My shtick is done. I don't want to be stuck forever - you know, it's probably worse than being famous, being immortal." He genuinely sighs this time. "Immortality is a curse, not a blessing."

That question … led to very uncomfortable places. Places she doesn't want to talk about. She blurts another question, completely unrelated. "What are you most grateful for?"

"My mom," Percy replies immediately. "I wouldn't be here without her. And I don't just mean her giving birth to me, because she sacrificed so much for me up until I learned I was a demigod. And even after that. No contest." He slows for a moment and squints in thought, before shrugging and resuming his walk. "I feel like I'm forgetting something important ... anyways, you?"

Damn. No hesitation. And for herself? What does a goddess have to be grateful for? "I am … I am most grateful for my abilities. I don't know who I'd be without them."

"Wow. Philosophical. You are what you do? Something like that? What abilities are you talking about? Mist manipulation?"

What? She pushes back into her cushy seat, trying to remember what he was referring to. She'd done a few tricks when they'd 'first' met? Artemis waves her hand dismissively. "Something like that."

"Mhm…" Percy stops before a door, but waits expectantly. Eventually, when it becomes obvious she's not going to explain more, he speaks. "Let's do a fun question."

Suddenly, Percy stretches his arms up, yawning, and Artemis pretends she's not looking at his abs as his shirt rides up. A few pops sound out as he bends and twists his back, and the flexing of his muscles appear very appealing. When his arms finally droop back down and he readjusts his shirt, the goddess quickly fakes interest in her empty cocktail glass. What is wrong with her?

"When's the last time you sang to yourself? Or someone else, for that matter?" The Son of Poseidon chuckles nervously. "I'm not the only one that does something as stupid as singing to myself, am I?"

Sing to herself? With her brother, it was impossible not to have found some music that she liked after so many centuries. But singing? There's no place for it during hunting, since it scares away game. And she only does so is in private. Oddly enough, she can't even recall even singing absently in the past few decades and some. Not since … the 20s? "Well, I don't, so maybe you are that stupid," she teases half-heartedly. As for the second part … "And I don't like singing to others."

"Hey - it's a lot more interesting to listen to underwater, ok?" protests Percy as he pulls out a jingling ream of keys to unlock the door. "Not my fault other people don't hear it the same way. It sounds so much different."

Artemis shakes her head. "And to others?"

"I think the last Camp Half-Blood campfire counts for that."

"Fine." She swirls the mixer, relishing the sloshing sounds of the liquid. What to say …? "Do you rehearse what you say before you talk with someone?"

"Hm? Not really. Only for really important things, but besides that I prefer to go with the flow." The demigod unlocks a door and enters a room, and then sidles into a plush armchair behind the front desk. He settles in, then gazes back through the mist straight into her eyes. "For the first few calls with you, actually."

She's falling into froth of the emerald sea of his eyes. "First few? Why'd you stop?"

"Because exactly planning out a conversation doesn't really work out sometimes," he admits freely, looking away in embarrassment. "The first one doesn't really count because you were busy with something, but I could tell you were a bit uncomfortable with the stuff I was asking about the next two times. Never intentionally tried to get to know someone before I planned on talking about certain stuff. It didn't work out, and I've always been better at improvising anyways, so no loss. Did you rehearse before calling me?"

"... No." If she'd thought through things long enough to be able to plan on what to talk about ask for the very moment, she'd have been sober enough to not call in the first place. "I don't usually call people at all."

Or rather, she doesn't call people at all.

"Eh. Maybe the problems are because of the long distance thing. It's different only talking and not actually doing stuff together, isn't it?" Percy offers for an explanation. He winks. "But hey, we're still trying, aren't we?"

She quickly downs the rest of the cocktail to avoid looking at him. The flush of blood in her face is because of her drink. The flush of blood in her face is because of her drink. The flush of blood in her face is becau-

"You ok there, Luna?" Percy's concerned expression swims into her vision.

Sigh. Artemis rubs the bridge of her nose. Calm. "I will be."

"Feeling better?" he asks hesitantly.

Huh?

… Oh.

And all the good cheer that's built up comes crashing down. Just when she finally forgets about all her problems, along comes the storm …

"Not anymore." Her mutter comes out as a bitter accusation.

Percy's sharp glance makes her insides wither in regret. She has barely a moment to consider her words and how badly she misspoke when Percy's acerbic voice makes her shiver. "Shall I go then?"

What? Artemis is clueless on how to respond - she wasn't prepared for Percy's flip in mood. Her hesitance is a moment too long, though.

"See you another time then." His hand sweeps through the mist.

"Wait!" Artemis's cries out, extending her hand. A silver light emanates from the gaseous substance that sustains the call. The change stops Percy's motion in its tracks, and through the slivers of somewhat connected mist left, their eyes meet. Muddled as her senses are, she's unsure what she finds in his eyes. Sadness? Bitterness? Resignation? And … and what does he find in her eyes?

"What?" His one word bite is paradoxically sharp and clear, despite being hazy and crackly across the damaged connection. His hand remains in the midst of his side of the Iris-Message, blocking half of her view of him, still ready to dismiss the call away.

"Stay," she begs quietly. "Please."

Slowly, his eyes still locked on hers, he withdraws his hand. With a circular gesture atop his end of the Iris-Message, the video call smooths over. Everything sharpens - his jaw is locked in place, and his face is resolute and unforgiving. Above all, the demigod's eyes are flinty, absolutely furious.

It, honest to Father, frightens her. It frightens her even when she eventually sees that his gaze is not wholly directed at her. That his anger is not focused only on her.

It's a minute of excruciating silence as they stare at her, before Artemis realizes that she needs to be the one to speak first. "I apol - I'm sorry."

"For what?" Still, his words are tense.

"I … I shouldn't have emptied out my emotions on you." She pushes her half-filled drink to the side, sets her hands in her lap, and forces herself to meet his gaze.

It's another ten seconds until he finally relaxes (though not fully), looking more melancholic than anything else. "It - you didn't say very much. I'm sorry too. I overreacted."

No, she didn't. But … "It still wasn't fair for me to do that."

"Me too, though," admits Percy. "I just - it's just … I want to help. I want to be here for you and help you. That is …" he takes a deep breath. "If you want it." He pulls out his trademark pen and begins spinning it between his fingers. "But it didn't seem like I was. Even with our talk … you're still focused on whatever's troubling you. You're bullshiting your questions. I'm not really helping."

Despite all the alcohol she'd consumed, and the lengthy conversation she's held with Perseus, the numbness of recent events still reverberates through her soul. The reason why she's at a bar, and not with her Hunt, will not leave.

"So you're still hurting, and you didn't want to talk about it. But at the same time, you aren't really into what we were talking about either," Percy elaborates. His eyes are now distant, mourning. "And at that point, it's probably better for me not to be here."

"I can't help you if you don't want help, or to talk." He's tapping his pen on the table before him now, clearly agitated. "Like, it's fine if you want to sort this out yourself. But then you don't need me. And if you want me just to be here - well, don't - don't just try to talk some empty crap. I don't want to waste anytime on shit that doesn't help."

"Annabeth and I broke up over this, did I mention that?" He laughs bitterly. "No, I didn't. Only that we broke up. Been through Tartarus together, but … we can't talk about anything properly anymore."

"I - I'm sorry," she repeats again. Artemis wipes something from beneath her right eye. "I …"

"Oh, it's not _that_ bad … we get along fine. Just … with everything, there's some trust issues. We can't say as much to each other as we used to, and it … it just messes with things." He sighs miserably. "Who knows. Things change, we might get back together - maybe? We need space right now."

"But that's enough about me, yeah?" Percy smiles halfheartedly. "Just - communication is the most important thing. Right now, it's about me being here for you. If you just want a friend - well, I'll gladly sit here for as long as you need, even if it's in complete silence and I'm just watching you drink. But-" He lowers his head into his hands and rubs his eyes. "And if you want to just talk about anything, to distract yourself - fine. It's not healthy, but since when did demigods care about healthy habits?"

The demigod lifts his chin, and his eyes open, gaze boring into hers. "But if you feel like talking … _actually_ talking … well, I'll be waiting, forever and a day."

"Your choice - you tell me."

It's an ultimatum. Percy's not - he's not _threatening_ anything, per se, but Artemis knows this is a point of no return. There's something - trust? - on the line. Some invisible line that she doesn't know if he's crossing, or she's crossing.

Oh, Father … she should talk about it. She … she needs to talk about it.

 _Milady … milady, please._

"One … one of my," Artemis chokes out.

 _Let me … pass. I'm ready … I'm ready to see them again._

"One of my close friends died." She blurts out, and waterworks she couldn't imagine that she had contained for so long bursts out. She's still dealing in misleading truths … but this is more than she's admitted to, ever. "I've known her for so long."

 _They're … they're waiting for me, milady ... Dorothy. Phoebe. Celyn._

She rubs her eyes desperately, trying to clear away the tears. Percy doesn't say anything, but Artemis is glad that he's silent. She's not sure she would finish if he interrupts.

"It's not - it's not that I haven't had people close to me die before." Artemis laughs, and even to her own ears it sounds deranged. "Be-because that sounds so much better."

Slowly, ever so slowly, she slouches forward into the table, too distraught to hold herself up. "With everything in the last few years, so many of my friends have died," the goddess quietly weeps into her arms. "And so many more died in the Second Giant War."

"I- I- I just wasn't prepared for another to die." A single misstep, and another of her Hunters downed by a monster. Oh, Martha, Martha, Martha …

 _Rest … rest well, Martha. Thalia - take care of things._

She raises her head, desperately wiping at her face. Through teary silver irises, she searches expectantly for some response from Percy.

He falters, though. "What … what can I say?" Percy leans forward, drawing closer to Artemis. "This is just how demigod life is, thank the gods for that." How did he sound so sarcastic yet endearing? "Shit … what can I say that you haven't already thought of? I don't think I can say anything that you haven't already told yourself, Luna … fuck. Gods - what do you want me to say? To do?"

The goddess sniffs, and pulls a napkin from a dispenser to catch some of her tears. "Anything," -hiccup- "nice to hear."

Percy sighs despondently. "Oh, Luna …" He looks absolutely and adorably clueless, but he continues nonetheless. "They - she? They wouldn't want you to be unhappy. They probably went to Elysium. You might see them again there …"

She chokes a sob, and he trails off. The demigod's words definitely hadn't helped - she knows they wouldn't want her to be sad. And in all likelihood, they all went to Elysium. But she definitely would not ever see them again …

Percy surprises her, stuttering through some almost eloquent speech before his voice dies away. "Shit. Talking … I'm not good with that. Talking alone never helps, it's never just the talking. Just - just being there helps. And I … "

Dies away, before coming back stronger than before. "I wish I could be there for you right now. I am, sort of, yes, but I mean there _with_ you. Physically there and all. You look like you need - um - you look like you need a hug, and -"

The phone on the desk he's at rings, and he jerks back, frightened by the sudden noise. After a quick look at Artemis, then the number, he picks it up. The loud excited babble is impossible to make out. It's obviously important, though, and positive, judging by the Percy's brightening expression.

It somehow doesn't bother her that he's distracted by a different call.

Somehow, in less than thirty seconds, Percy's said enough.

He didn't say anything the goddess hadn't already conceived up, but she's spent her tears, weeping out her pain. It still hurts, but … somehow, in so few words, she thinks things will be better again. And she wishes he was actually present, there with her too.

She's not quite happy … merely feeling almost pleasantly burnt out. Satisfyingly empty. Cathartic.

Her face is still wet though. Artemis turns towards the window to use her reflection to help clean up her look. Through the transparent plane, the lightening of the sky is obvious. She can't see the sunrise itself, but the rich pastel colors thrown across the clouds and buildings in contrast to the long shadows behind them draws her attention.

The same light that Percy's been under for quite some time already. Who, speak of Pan, drops the phone carelessly back into place as he rambles away at her. "I'm so sorry, Luna, I got to run," rushes out of his mouth as he leaps out of the chair. "My mom's at the hospital, you called and then I forgot it was so close to her being due and Paul's been trying to f-"

"Due?"

"Yeah! Damn, I forgot you didn't know, my mom's having a baby!"

Her jaw slacks. "Well, what are you waiting for? Go - go celebrate life. I'll …" she swallows on nothing but air. "I'll be ok."

Percy's piercing gaze sweeps through her, even as he impatiently bounces in place. "No. Not yet."

Artemis straightens, shocked as he plops back down. "But- no, you're getting a sibling, don't waste your time with me, hurry and go, what are you doing?"

"Oh, lovely Luna." Percy's confidence is back, clear and calling. "Why would my time with you ever be a waste, Moonbeam?"

A wet laugh escapes the goddess. "Don't be asinine! This - this can wait. I'm, I'm already feeling better. You've helped. A lot. Thank - thank you." She hides her face behind her hands and blushes.

"Hm … you're sure. Well, no, still, I'll call you soon," Percy promises. "Tonight."

His smile before he breaks the connection warms Artemis more than a fire ever would.

The rainbow projection collapses, and she falls back into the cushioning, fatigued.

… oh, what now, then?

She pockets her prism, shifting in her seat. Surreptitiously, she glances at the innocent looking glass of blue liquid, on the table a mere foot to her right. Her pale hand snakes out … and pauses, shaking.

No.

It's time to be strong again. Though …

 _*cough, sniff, sniff_.

Strong can wait until after she freshens up.

The last sliver of the supermoon slips away before the dawn, and Artemis disappears with it.

* * *

 _Author's Note_

 **Do not ever consume more alcohol than you can tolerate. You cannot tolerate the amount I described that Artemis consumed. That amount will lead to alcohol poisoning, long term health damages, and/or premature death.**


	4. Summer's Anthem

"Falling in love and having a relationship are two different things." Keanu Reeves

* * *

" Ah … Lady Artemis. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Hearing her name, the distracted fog in the Huntress's mind lifts. Her eyes, staring into the distance, clear as she identifies the speaker.

"Calypso," asserts the goddess tentatively. Her senses are telling her that yes, the caramel colored hair and the cinnamon scent is that of the marooned Titan. Or rather, that of the formerly marooned Titan.

But it is in the eyes that Artemis truly recognizes her - without the familiar eyes, Artemis feels she would have failed to recognize Calypso in the first place. The dark almond irises that echo that of Atlas's … Artemis's arms twinge from the ghost of a weight beyond worlds.

But also the same intense eyes of her old lieutenant's. It would not do to forget that.

The former convict stands between her and the refreshments table that threads the center of the throne room. The nectar is right there, right behind the woman that is dressed not in the Ancient Greek attire of ages past, but in modern mortal party clothing. Rather … vibrant party clothing. The bright gold and fluorescent white clothing complement Calypso well in the way it is cut to reveal her body, but it's an unsettling sight. It is odd, seeing the Titan in clothing so contemporary.

And there's just some niggling feeling in the back of Artemis's mind that tells her that Calypso is … different, that she's changed. That she's now lacking something important, something essential that the goddess can't place to being exactly what.

Artemis's gaze locks with Calypso's. She remains standing where she is for a few more uneasy seconds, waiting for the Titaness to react. When her opponent's eyes finally flicker away, Artemis walks around Calypso to the table she'd been heading to and lightly cusps a goblet of golden fluid.

However, Artemis doesn't hear Calypso walk away. She sighs internally, preparing for the dreaded social interaction. This can't last too long.

"Just here for a drink," the goddess of the moon comments after another moment of silence. She takes a short sip of nectar. Mmm. There's ... hm. The milk chocolate is bold, sweet, maybe a touch too strong? But the hint of vanilla amidst the smooth texture of pastry is just right. Not the usual, and the flavors aren't what she expects from the 'universal flavor' drink, but the sweet surprise is a welcome one.

Her unplanned companion turns along to the table and faces her, left hand fluttering onto the table before selecting a drink of her own. "I do suppose that was awfully presumptive of me. After all, we had no prior standing relationship. You had only visited me on Ogygia … thrice, I believe."

Artemis hums noncommittally, moving along to an unoccupied area of the table to rest her backside comfortably onto the table. "Your home was beautiful, but it was not for my particular … taste. I'm sure you understand."

"Of course," Calypso agrees before silence prevails again. Well, not silence. The Muses are performing, after all. Artemis takes in the last few silky strains of melodious jazz bubbling over the conversational ambience surrounding them. But when the chords resolve, she alters her preference to mute all sounds unwanted and sighs imperceptibly with relief at the absence of distracting noise.

"So … you're free." The goddess says half-heartedly, There's little else to do while she waits, ever so anxious for what's to come. Her eyes are preoccupied, surveying the celebration around them.

"That I am," Calypso nods, and Artemis senses the Titaness getting comfortable beside her.

"Wait …" Artemis finally focuses her attention on Calypso as a single forgotten fact, unbidden, returns to the forefront of her mind. "Who freed you? I don't quite recall any of the gods or goddesses …"

"Ah ... that. Your memory serves you well, Artemis. You are correct - no god or goddess attempted to retrieve me from my … home." The former prisoner's expression, though, is not as bitter as Artemis expects. Instead, it's very much as if the Titaness is laughing at her, eyes alight with some inside joke. "No, it was a demigod who did the work of the gods." She brings her cup up to her lips, but pauses and glances sideways towards Artemis to finish her last remark. "Just as per usual, hm?"

The Huntress frowns, unsure if Calypso means to imply an insult. And wasn't the last hero to land on the island ... "Perseus Jackson?"

Artemis catches the slightest twitch of an eyelid and a grimace from Calypso before the Titaness smothers her instinctive reaction with a giggle. "After a sort, I suppose. He started it, but Leo Valdez was the one to finish the process."

Taking another draft of nectar, Artemis tries to place the name with the face, before arriving at the twitchy-fingered mechanic who had visited Delos. Her left hand flexes into a claw as she recalls her annoyance with the roars, shrieks, and screams made by the atrocious mechanical device her brother kept fooling around with.

She forces herself to relax. Thinking of Apollo wouldn't do any good. Though thinking of island homes … "So what is to be of Ogygia, with you gone?"

Calypso hums, absent and lost in her memories. "It'll be lost, I suppose. Until my dear Leo tries to find it again. But I doubt we'll return - the world has certainly changed much since I'd left it, and I'd rather explore the new than chase after the old with what time that I have."

"The time that you … have?" Artemis puts down her goblet and turns to actually scrutinize the Titaness for the first time. "That's what has changed," Artemis gasps as her mind spins from the revelation. "You're mortal."

"That I am too," Calypso nods, as if the matter is of no importance whatsoever. "You are very perceptive - your reputation as the Huntress is well deserved. The only other to notice outside of the dozens I've spoken to thus far was Hestia."

Artemis finds it difficult to respond, with her mind still buzzing over the Titaness's - no, the mortal's - confession. "Yes, yes. It is … interesting to have a reputation."

A loud cry from behind them, across the table, draws their attention. "Sunshine! Look who I found!"

The two women rise and turn around, and Artemis takes a step back as Calypso gasps in surprise. "Oh! Percy!" Silence falls within the group. Then, Calypso reaches across the table to clasp Percy's hand between hers, bowing and taking a deep breath before speaking. "I am so sorry for the trouble I caused you. Leo told me about it and it is unforgivable and -"

"Hey, hey. It's ok. Water under the bridge." Percy looks carefully at Leo before reversing the position of their hands to allow him to bend over to brush his lips over Calypso's hand. "And really, I needed that wake-up call, so thank you. I should have made sure the Olympians followed through on their promise." Percy's eyes dart towards Artemis momentarily, before returning to Calypso. "And thanks for all the other things from before that too, again. My mother has twenty-some pots of moonlace around the apartment. And you two are an awesome couple."

Artemis remains silent, squashing the rebellious feeling of aggravation stirring in her chest. Leo, on the other hand … "Yeah, and don't you know that means hands off, water boy?"

Percy releases Calypso's hand and smirks at Leo, then straightens up and looks back to Calypso. "And, I think, most of all, thanks for helping take care of this idiot. He definitely needed plenty of help before, and if anything he needs someone more than ever to make sure he doesn't blow himself up."

Calypso ignores Leo's indignant squawk and smiles back at Percy. "Of course. Why, just the other day, my babe, he-" Leo vaults over the table to shove his hands over Calypso's mouth. The former Titaness shakes with muted laughter and pries off his hand to continue speaking. "Sadly, that's a story for another time, I believe. It's good to see you again, Son of the Sea."

"Same. But I think you deal with Mr. Touchy now, so I'll be off. Leo - suck it up, man." The mechanic sticks his tongue out at Percy. "Cute. And, conveniently-" Percy turns to Artemis. "Luna! You look beautiful! Wow!" He tilts his head towards the end of the table a good dozen yards away. "Shall we?"

Artemis chances a glance back to Calypso and Leo before accompanying Percy away. The curious look that Calypso gives the back of Percy's head as he walks away unnerves her.

She'd been talking with Calypso as Artemis, but Percy waltzed in and called her Luna. The former Titaness is bound to be confused. What conclusions will she draw? Will she say anything? Is there going to any problems? Is she so easily confused to be Artemis when she intends to be Luna, and vice versa? Was it that way at the actual council meeting? Was Percy there to see it and did he connect the dots on who 'Luna' was?

As she meets up with Percy at the end of the drinks table, she forces herself to calm down before looking into his eyes. Deep, slow, breath, answer her own questions. Overall, age and appearance are of no consequence to immortals, but many did find a niche 'setting' to keep, and eventually be known for that. Most others recognize Artemis based on her contrasting age and maturity. But Calypso wouldn't have used those factors to identify Artemis, especially age, due to their lack of major interactions before. Calypso had most likely deciphered her identity by judging other less visible factors.

Her usual form … the only big difference when comparing that and her persona of Luna now is the age difference. On the other hand, the gradual appearance change and physical growth of 4 teenage years are stark. Moreover, earlier she had been in giant size while the council held court on the thrones (however inconvient and pointless it was to be so large so for little time), so being recognized off that form is unlikely. That, and she'd worn the usual silver robes and sandals that she'd always worn for council meetings, and then changed her get up to a tastefully silver trimmed black dress and slip-ons. Wearing so much silver would've been the equivalent of wearing a neon sign.

On a larger scale, beyond Calypso, no one would likely see a relation between earlier and now.

Artemis deduces with reasonable surity that she won't be mistaken for the "wrong" person again. Especially because she's here as Luna.

But as to what Calypso would do …. well, there's no way to tell what she will do. Hopefully, the Titaness will keep quiet about possible concerns. There's nothing Artemis can do about Calypso, so she can only move on to other questions.

But the most important question remains unanswered. Would Percy by any chance decipher who she really was? Artemis looks into Percy's eyes, taking in the marvelous green hues. "It's nice to see you in person again."

"That it is," Percy agrees. "Sorry it took so long to meet up. I helped Mom and Paul take care of Daphne for a bit, so I didn't get to Empire State until like 10 o'clock. The security guard is still a bunch of trouble, though. It took me almost another hour to get past him. And then I realized we never set up a place to meet, but before I could call you Leo popped up, then, well, you know the rest."

Well, that conveniently answers her last panicked question. "Actually, wasn't he the Seven that died?"

Percy laughs and gestures toward an empty table. "Long story. Wanna sit and talk?"

"How about just give me the short version and we do something else?" the goddess suggests. She gently takes his hand starts walking backward, tugging him to the dance floor.

She wants to delve into the feelings of this new experience. The goddess doesn't want to miss a chance.

Contrary to Artemis's desires, Percy stops in his tracks. The demigod shakes his head, a smile on his face the whole time. "So fast? Let me get some food for breakfast first at least, I didn't eat anything yet."

"Really? It's almost noon." Percy nods emphatically in response. Artemis pouts, but takes his arm and pulls up to his side. "Fine. Brunch, I suppose. Tell me about Leo, then. And Daphne."

From her peripheral vision, she sees Percy's eyes widen, and his left arm in her grip jerks ever so slightly - Artemis deduces that he's surprised by how handsy she's being. Tough. She's been anticipating seeing him in person for months. Hell, she's actually been considering the passage of time in days and weeks and months, rather than decades and centuries.

Nevertheless, Percy responds. "Leo IM'd me a few weeks or so ago. Surprised the hell out of me, since he's supposed to be dead, but I got over it pretty fast. Most of the other Seven never believed he died anyways, and it's nice to hope. He said he'd be here today and wanted me to help clear up things with Calypso," explains Percy as he snatches a plate of blue french toast spilling out of a cornucopia.

"And those things were?" she inquires, snatching a few cherries to munch on.

He waits for her to finish and dispose of the seeds on the table (which disappears into thin air immediately). "Nothing big. She just got into a little funk after Leo told her about a few parts of the Seven's adventures."

Everything settled, he escorts Artemis back to a small dining table and sets his food down in order to pull out one of the two chairs for the goddess.

"Thank you." Artemis gathers up the skirt of her dress and sits down. She pushes Percy's food closer to his side of the table as he sits. "And what of Daphne?"

"Oh, she was fussing this morning and I wanted to let Mom sleep, so I changed her diaper and fed her the bottle. Her hair's almost done falling out too, so less clean up - relatively, I mean," comments Percy before picking up utensils (that magically appeared) and digging into his toast.

Ah, yes. It was truly strange to learn how a human child developed. Artemis had been the goddess of childbirth for a time before the role was passed to Eileithyia, but childbirth was and remained an overall narrow topic. She had dealt only with the birth of the child, not the raising of a child. Not to mention that immortals didn't really follow the standard cycle of human growth.

In one Iris Message about two months ago, Percy had answered the call while burping Daphne. It was a very endearing image. Adorable, even. But on that topic, there's been one question she's been meaning to ask, though … "How sweet of you. But a question I've gotten a bit curious about, but always forgot to ask - why did your mother name her Daphne?"

Percy finishes chewing and swallows before speaking up. "Oh, Mom and Paul went through a few names. They even asked me about it, and I helped them bring down the list to two. The other choice was Sophia, but in the end, they just decided she looked more like a Daphne."

"So there wasn't any ..." Artemis searches for the right words. "any intentional meaning behind naming her Daphne?"

"Wha? Oh, you mean - ah, that's why they sounded familiar," exclaims Percy. "The names are from Ancient Greek, right? Wisdom and ... um, the laurel tree?"

"Mhm," hums the goddess in agreement. Daphne, the naiad turned laurel tree, because of the great horny bastard Artemis called her brother. At least the laurel later became symbolically more significant and beautiful than just the extent a female had to go to to avoid being raped. "Daphne's a good name."

The demigod nods emphatically as he polishes off the rest of his plate. Wiping his mouth with a napkin (also magically generated), he stands up. "Shall we?"

"I suppose so," beams Artemis. She lifts her hand for him to take. "Well?"

Percy rolls his eyes, and circles around the table to take her hand. "So demanding."

The goddess pointedly ignores his teasing and rises gracefully. "Aren't you the gentleman?"

The Son of the Sea does look the part. He isn't wearing a suit, perhaps, but he is wearing a rich purple dress shirt, a silver tie, black dress pants, and even shoes that looked the part of dress shoes. While they hadn't attempted to coordinate clothing colors, they'd certainly done a passable job.

Because, well …

Yes, they were on a date.

To a 'dance.'

In Olympus.

On the Summer Solstice.

Yeah … Artemis has no idea what she's doing. No idea at all.

Well, no. She knows perfectly well what she's doing, and she knows it's a terrible idea, and she's doing it anyways.

Because she definitely wants this little thing to happen, even with whatever repercussions that might come.

Sure, the odds of exposure are severely out of her favor in the throne room, even if other gods can potentially recognize them. Calypso sensing her identity isn't a good sign, but the former Titan is likely an exception. Most of the various gods and goddesses are probably relying on the five basic senses and wouldn't realize Artemis was with Percy, on, well, on a date.

And hopefully, the date factor would work its magic in helping cover her identity. With her reputation, no one would expect her present herself to be four years older than usual, wearing largely black clothing, and practically draped over a male.

And the … male, part. It hadn't really been her intentions to have a date. But she couldn't think of a plausible way to deny Percy's invitation to get together at the Summer Solstice. Solstices always come first in demigod life, so there was really no other event for her to say she had to go to that took priority. After all, the main meeting practically required the presence of every demigod in the camps. And sure, neither of them had technically enjoyed the Winter Solstice festivals after the event, but they had still gone to it. The fact that neither of them had stayed afterward only further convinced Percy that they should experience it together.

Though … deep down, in the depths of her soul, she very much wants to spend time with Perseus Jackson. The man who'd proven his worth, saved the world (twice!), mended her heart, and stolen her fancy for at least if not more than the past half year and some.

Being here with Perseus is worth the risk.

The hero endeared himself to her with the every increasing number of calls. Since the … alcoholic incident with … Martha dying, the amount of IMs between them had spiked from once in two weeks, to once a week, to almost every other day. She'd even been the one to initiate about a third of those calls.

It was a quiet revelation, being able to gradually understand and absorb the tendencies of a person, and admire his virtually pure soul. Not fully pure, perhaps, but almost. And being able to share a little about herself (to the best of her ability within the boundaries she'd set for herself by pretending to be mortal) was like finally releasing a breath she'd been holding for centuries.

She honestly couldn't remember the last time she'd comfortably shared her thoughts and self to someone. Not even her Hunt - there, she'd been an idol. Not distant, maybe, familiar and somewhat sociable, but placed on a pedestal and a step removed. Treated not like a fellow person, but … a god. Alien, without the same wants and needs.

How ironic.

Gods be damned, she'd been the first one to call the 'meetup' that he'd suggested a 'date.' Perseus had only ever said 'hang out' or "meet up" before she'd called it a date.

Artemis, goddess of the Hunt, sworn eternal virgin, and hater of man - going on a date.

Oops.

But as Luna …?

Well, it's the first date for the little lady from Rome, so best to make a perfect memory to last the ages.

They make their way onto the dance floor, weaving around cha-cha lines and worms and break dances and planks and grinds and twerks to a more subdued corner.

"Do I even want to know what those guys over there are listening to?" asks Percy. Artemis turns her head to see and blinks at the sight of a group of assorted demigods, gods, and other beings rocking their heads back and forth at a stupendous rate. The violent motions send their long hair flying everywhere; their hands were either up in the air punching with an unheard beat or playing guitars that simply didn't exist.

Artemis shrugs eloquently. "Likely metal. Music can be weird." Evidence: her brother, the embodiment of music in a (not so) holy being.

"I guess? What about what you're listening to?" Percy's second question draws Artemis's attention back to him, and the most adorable expression of confusion falls upon his face as he 'listens in.' "Why is it so quiet? Did all the other noise people were making just get erased? Shit, you can do that?"

"Magic can do wonderful things, can't it?" Artemis comments rhetorically. "Destructive sound waves - the use of sound to cancel out other sounds."

"So you can make it so you can only hear the people you're having a conversation with? Damn, I've been missing out!" Percy exclaims as he looks over the crowd. "It's really weird not hearing everyone else, but it's certainly a lot more peaceful."

"I imagine most do not know this is possible," Artemis shrugs and squares up to face him. "It's not as if the average mortal has many opportunities to listen to the Nine Muses. One time a few years ago I asked for silence instead asking for the music to stop, and this was the result."

Few.

"So why can we hear each other?" Percy asked, nose scrunched in thought.

"Magic? The usual answer for everything," suggests the goddess. But she is sure that everything feels too … boring at the moment. Flat. Platonic. Unassuming. Casual. Whatever word.

"Weird. I just listened to the music over everyone else's noise. Sure, you don't hear what they're dancing to, but it got awkward sometimes when other groups nearby were dancing to something completely different. This is much better not dealing with everyone else being loud. It's like being in our own little world." Percy frowns minutely. "Though I think some music would be nice. You have to request something now, is that how it works? I tuned into you, so that means you're in charge, right?"

"The magic that they use to link up groups and synchronize is beyond me," shrugs Artemis again as she takes his hands and places them at her waist. The soft jazz from before returns in a heartbeat, though it's a new song she's unfamiliar with. Perhaps taking his thoughts into consideration? The style is perfect, though: the calm, slow beat of drums and rasping snare; the muted chords of string bass and trombone; and the lilting, sweeping smooth saxophone; and a peppering of trumpets. The ensemble accumulates pleasantly in her ear as a single, satisfactory package.

"Jazz?" asks Percy. She nods, even as her hands move up to behind his neck.

"Why didn't you ever mention that you liked jazz?" Percy asks again. This time she shrugs noncommittally in response, before letting her hands settle. The position is perfect - just the right height (head level) to feel comfortable. She begins to drift back and forth in time with the fairly slow music. It's a good few seconds before his hands arrive at her waist and he finally submits to the flow of her movement.

The Huntress finds no need for words at the present, and Percy seems to agree. She wants to talk, yes, but right now she deigns savoring the physical intimacy she's sharing with Percy far more important. The slight weight of his hands, mere millimeters from touching her skin over her skintight black dress, reinforces the feeling of closeness. As the melody swells, she can feel the pulse of his heartbeat in concert with the music. Though …

"Nice tenor sax feature." The Son of the Sea mumbles quietly, not looking at her as he does so.

"Yes. How did you know?" As close as the demigod is, Artemis can feel how tense his hands are, a subtle difference of being locked rather than rested at her waist. The weight is still agreeable, and Percy isn't gripping her, yet it feels … tight, rigid. Just slightly off. To be fair, though, she is all too aware of her own hands trembling, even if only a little bit.

Maybe she isn't as ready for this as she thought. Or was it too soon for a slow dance?

Percy shrugs, and her arms jostle out of their position. "Ah, it's sorta embarrassing."

"I won't laugh," assures Artemis. She tries to find a comfortable position again, but the right location for her hands seems just out of reach.

"I always thought sax players looked pretty cool. Not marching band, but jazz band. The jazz band at Goode plays at lunch sometimes, and it's usually pretty good. Like ... I don't have a good history with music. An empousa kinda wrecked the band room and blamed me, so I'm banned from there. At least I wasn't expelled. But I kinda wanna play," explains Percy, eyes still off towards the general direction of the Nine Muses. "Mom also has a few good jazz albums that she plays, even though there's less of that than the other music she prefers."

"So you've listened enough to identify what type of saxophone is playing?"

"It's pretty easy. Sopranos, which play the highest, aren't even used in most jazz bands, but you usually have one bari. But they're really low and have a pretty distinctive weight to their sound. Alto sax and tenor sax the most common and are pretty close, but alto is a little more pitchy and goes higher, while tenor has the extra little range at the bottom that makes it sound a lot sexier to me."

"Sexy?" Artemis titters. Percy blushes and ducks his head, looking down at the tiles between their feet. The goddess, though, merely snuggles in closer to counter. More specifically, she leans in, cocking her head almost to his chest to look up into his eyes.

"I dunno. It just sounds … darker. What's the word …?" Due to their proximity and lack of other sounds (besides the music), his voice is now only a soft but clear whisper. Nonetheless, Artemis moves flush to his body, one ear listening to him and the other suffused with the beat of his pulse. "Alto sax is just too loud and bright for me, while tenor sax is kinda more … mellow, that's the word. Rich and full and beautiful ..." Percy trails off, and Artemis is sure his eyes are swallowing every detail of her face, with how the sea-green shimmers.

A half minute or so after she's closed the space between them, Percy wraps his arms around her waist, hands ghosting, one above the other atop the arch of her back. And it's there, enjoying the music, with the hero she's come to enjoy so much time with in her arms - or is it that she's in his arms? It's there, that a question that she had never considered before comes to haunt her. Even as they continue to sway, even as Percy's arms start to change from feeling vaguely distant and holding her away to soothing and inviting, she can only wonder: how much of her happiness has she denied herself by refusing males for millennia?

No, no, surely not. Perhaps - but Percy feels unique, surely a fresh soul born from Chaos so that there were no previous incarnations of him that she could've met earlier. Percy is special, for being able to come so close to her heart. But underlying that question …

When was the last time - no, when did she ever enjoy the tranquil and relaxing pleasures in life? Was this feeling only from spending time like this in such a manner? Even in the slowest paced hunts, an undercurrent of adrenaline is always prevalent. But this wasn't the ecstasy of a success - just a simple contentment with her state of being. Which, at least, she can now remember having some occasions of that in multiple centuries ago, spending nights with her Hunters.

But when had that become a chore instead? When had her lifestyle changed so drastically that being with her followers had become a matter-of-fact series of going through the motions? And when did it become that pretending to be a mortal, and spending time with a male became what made her most …

Most happy? Quietly but quintessentially happy?

Finally, she becomes conscious of the fact the music has stopped. But Percy has yet to stop slow dancing, and Artemis herself isn't inclined to stop either. She pulls her head back to regard him properly, and her field of vision slowly narrows as she draws closer and closer, lips parting minutely to -

His forehead gently bumps into hers, and she flinches at the sudden unexpected contact, fully alert. Now they stop moving about in place, and the hero's easy smile and tiny chuckle is infuriating on a level she can't even properly comprehend at the moment. She puts a little space between them, but before she can push him away and tell Percy off, his grip tightens and he asks another question. "Did you know that song?"

Her (completely righteous) fury tapers somewhat as mild confusion shoves it to the side. "No … why?"

"Because I do. Never heard it that way, but …" There's barely a ghost of a laugh, belying his amusement at the coincidence before he explains. "I hardly realized I picked it up until I was singing it in the shower, but I started hearing this song a lot because Paul loves hearing it, and playing it for Mom. And if you had, like, any idea of what the lyrics of the actual song is, well …"

"Well what?" she replies, a bit testy.

"Ask them to replay the song." She gnaws on her cheek, dissatisfied with his answer. But Percy smiles - softer, and even a bit pained now. And when he tugs gently at her waist, she grudgingly accepts his invitation to come closer and puts her arms around his shoulder again.

For a moment, one of his hands leaves her back to cusp the back of her head, and bring her forehead to meet his once again. All the while, the intensity in his gaze burrows into her eyes. "Luna. Please."

In the briefest second, she muses just how little names are used in real conversation. Being called Luna … was vaguely off-putting. Felt right, felt genuine, because of the way he said it - yet fundamentally wrong, because that wasn't the name she expected.

Then the hint of the thought of the word 'replay' in her mind restarts the song the Muse just played for them. This time, it's Percy who pulls her into dancing.

When Percy begins to sing softly, Artemis missteps. Thankfully, correcting herself and resuming their simple dance doesn't distract Percy from his song nor herself from hearing the lyrics.

 _When I fall in love … `.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`_

 _`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`. … it will be forever_

 _Or I'll never … `.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`_

 _`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`… fall- in love_

 _In- a- restless world … `.`.`.`.`.`.`.`_

 _`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.` … like this is_

 _Love is end-ed be-fore it's be-gun …_

 _And too many moon-light kisses …_

 _Seem to cool … `.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`_

 _`.`.`.`.` in the warmth … `.`.`.`.`_

 _`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.` of the sun …_

Artemis can't tell who is more embarrassed at the moment. Both his and her eyes dart about, barely able to lock onto each other's gaze for a few seconds before flickering away or closed. That, and his cheeks burn bright crimson, and she is absolutely certain hers are too.

 _When I give my- heart … `.`.`.`.`.`.`.`_

 _`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.` … it will be completely_

 _Or I'll never … `.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`_

 _`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.` … give my heart_

 _And the moment … `.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`_

 _`.`.`.`.` I can feel that … `.`.`.`.`.`.`_

 _`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.` you feel that way too~_

 _Is- when … I fall in love … with~ you. -~-_

This time, they stop with the end of the piece. The sound of their breathing reigns as they are finally able to contemplate each other's eyes without interruption.

"You sing." Artemis searches his face for his response. Usually, it would be easy - Percy wears his heart on his sleeve - but at that moment it was frustratingly empty.

At least, until he cracked a small lopsided smile. "A Child of the Sea should always have hidden depths."

She tries to smile in return, but it refuses to properly form on her face. She attempts again - but to no avail. No point in a third try - instead, ever so slowly, the goddess rises to the tips of her toes. They were already wrapped oh so close, but now she presses up to Perseus as if to merge their bodies. Her eyelids flutter and close halfway as she approaches. The closer she gets, the more she can feel his very breathing slow to a stop as he freezes in place. She's only an inch away now.

There, she finds an impenetrable barrier. She can't bring herself, make herself, force herself to move any closer, and the two are locked into place. A few seconds - minutes - hours later, and Percy doesn't close the last gap between them.

… why?

Oh, gods be damned to Tartarus, Artemis has no idea what she's doing.

She just - why can't she just - why can't she finish the deed? She wants she wants she wants she wants so bad. She's been anticipating - anticipating something - something! This moment? This! - and it's here, and it's not happening, but it's not happening, nothing feels right. Everything is too rushed, too forced, too … fake and phony.

Maybe this isn't what she was looking for? Maybe she's just crazy. Well, Artemis has no idea left of what she might be looking for …

But apparently this isn't it.

She falls back on her heels as slowly as she approached. Oh, why didn't Percy respond? Why wouldn't he respond? Artemis appraises the last bit of intimate warmth from the hero's body before extricating herself and ducking her head to stare at their motionless feet. She feels as she's been sucker punched.

"You've done more for me than you'll ever know," Artemis whispers.

She turns to her left, towards the exit, not even looking up to see how he reacts - then stops.

Her gut actually feels like it's been punched. But it's strangely off to the side … she looks to her right, where a small celestial bronze knife handle sticks out from right above her where her kidney is supposed to be. Artemis falls onto her bottom, keeping herself from falling over completely with her left arm.

Is - is someone saying something? Percy is … is yelling at … protecting her from her attacker. It's a … a blonde girl - Annabeth? People around them are starting to notice …

Deliriously, Artemis clenches and pulls out the blade from her side. Golden ichor spurts out, splattering across polished marble tiles.

Oops.

The moon goddess faintly senses that Annabeth is so confused as to stop fighting Percy. That in her peripherals, the approaching Aphrodite and Zeus and Poseidon are also so shocked into complete disbelief as to stop moving towards the scuffle …

And Percy is turning, turning just in time to see the ichor-stained blade clatter onto the floor as she flashes away.

* * *

 _When I Fall in Love, performed by Nat King Cole, music by Victor Young, lyrics by Edward Heyman_


	5. Love's Labour

" _Never let go of that fiery sadness called desire." Patti Smith_

* * *

The problem with immortality …

Artemis's tongue flicks out, peeking for a millisecond from her pale lips. Silver irises alight upon lines and lines of uniform black lettering, devouring all in their path.

 _The laws of language are crucial to comprehension - after all, how else would we understand one another, without any set boundaries and understandings? However, it is when those rules are lacking (or even broken) that things become interesting. It is why some even declare those same rules to be guidelines, or even arbitrary altogether. The masters of language casually show their disdain for them._

 _Of course, that is by their right of experience. They are masters of their art, after all. And as with any other art, learn the rules first - then break them, with style. I hope, with this text, you will reach the point where you may do so in your own writing._

 _But even before I get ahead of myself, we still must address language itself. What is the point of learning rules, if not for what the rules govern? After all, the host of all that can be done is not merely in the construction, but also within the material._

 _It is in the ambiguity of words that so much can be manipulated, even before structure. Diction before syntax. And the English diction is marvelous - there are sacrifices in coherence, perhaps, but in the name of a greater range and differing emphasis. This is only proliferated by the multitudes of definitions, interpretations, and shades of meaning of the words that make up the language - it is from these nuances that beauty, that …_

Artemis thumbs the bottom corner of the page, chewing a bit of her lip. The foreword had been an excessive self introduction of titles and names that the author held, and a heaping thanks to various muses, aids, and sources. But the title on the slim spine - _Whimsy on the Wit of the Words_ \- that had pulled her attention to the book in the first place had also warranted enough interest from her to dive in further. Her choice to read on to the first chapter, titled "Definitions," past the absurd self-inflation, is rewarded by the almost fun of the lyrical flair of the writer. Most definitely, this "Alice J. Stevens" knew what she was talking about. It's certainly worth flipping to the next page.

… _art arises, even before the subtle machinations of writers. It is in the precipice between, for one of my favorite examples,_ _honesty_ _against_ _truthfulness_ _. Many would claim those two words to be the same in meaning. However, I find a difference. While being honest means you are truthful, being truthful does not mean you are being honest._

 _To explain: honesty is the lack of deception. Yet one can just look at the work of any politician worth their salt to learn how to deceive with truth. There are many ways to do this, which I need not go off into a tangent for. No more the less on topic, I consider myself to be quite skilled at this art. It is in the holes of meaning that we try to fulfill - that we come to recognize that lying is not a catch-all for what we desire for it to denote. We try to think of lying to be all of falsehood, to be the antithesis of everything true and good. Ever heard the term lying by omission, perhaps? If if no false information was told, then it was not lying to begin with. But for humans to properly conceive of deception with only a flawed perspective, such casual and inaccurate recontextualization occurs._

 _To quickly explain how such occurs: someone just heavily implied an answer by stating some established fact, by which the other assumes some answer beyond that vagueness. Only truth was stated, yet dishonesty occurs. It is one of the ways within English in which one manipulates conventions, of both society and language. So, as a warning - be careful when someone tells you they are telling the truth. They might be dishonest._

 _How about another fun little question? The faults of "I'm sorry," between its understanding of_ _apologies_ _as opposed to_ _condolences_ _? Though some do not care at all - more's the literal pity._

 _In times where saying sorry has become far too popular, depth of emotion is cheapened. Sorry is most in link to apologies, which of course conveys regrets for one's own faults and wrongdoings that caused trouble for another. Yet the colloquial term is also used in the place of condolences, where one expresses acknowledgement and sympathy for the problems of another. And that usage is wrong._

 _With that established, it's no wonder that issues can arise. Does saying "I'm sorry" really fit when you're trying to express sadness and support for a friend after their relative's death? Condolences works much better. Used wrongly, sorry carries the feeling of pity and condescension._

 _On the other hand, the formality of the use of "apologies" over "sorry" greatly aids in sincerity and strength for times that the usage is correct. So, for a positive contrast to the previous example - do some good, use the words in the correct scenarios._

 _And finally, before more concrete a lesson - in emotions, there's one more example I absolutely_ _love_ _due to the addition of a preposition. Unlike the previous cases, this is not about two words that differ, or a word supplanting two other words. This time, it is the presence of another word that changes the meaning of the original word. A preposition that modifies the subject matter from a verb to a noun, in fact. Just to keynote the subtlety of "in" for this case, or any word, for that matter. For what is the difference of being in-"_

Artemis flips th-

The rasp of a heavy wooden door, oiled too well to creak but still brushing against the frame just so slightly, prickles in her ear. Her head snaps towards the sound at her right, and her eyes immediately pinpoint on the trio entering. She clamps the book shut and puts it aside with nary another thought given to it, and ducks into the shelves to find cover.

Sometimes the hunter tracks. Other times, the hunter lays a trap for her prey.

Both are exercises in patience. Both get to know their target. The former tracks, uses fundamental but general knowledge of the potential target.

But the latter has the advantage of _intimacy_. The time to get to know the prey in question, and to learn the routines and mannerisms of the individual.

Prey is a strong word. Correct, perhaps, but strong. Would she describe the demigod Perseus Jackson that way normally?

Well, besides needing to establish a "normal" first.

Regardless. The goddess spies a glimpse through the books. Approximate hour on a Thursday afternoon. Fourth week, fourth time.

The first was a surprise, second a coincidence, but third? A pattern. Likely formed due to one of his current companions, one she's seen with the demigod every week: the Praetor. Perhaps because Thursday afternoons were unfettered by any occasion of import, so the Praetor was free of duty?

Reyna, if Artemis remembers correctly, is the name. She might have heard the name a few times, from the celebrations of yesteryear and the off-comments of Thalia. A wonderful woman - young, independent, powerful, a force to reckon with.

And someone she can't help but resent, but envy for being right there next to Percy, interacting with him. Interacting with warmth. Happiness. Freedom.

The other companion is unexpected. Somehow more so than other companions from before. There hadn't been any others the first time. In the second, they'd also been accompanied by two of the Seven - the other Praetor and his lover that visited her birthplace; the last, a stumbling drunkard.

This time, there's a six, maybe seven year old girl, plainly skipping ahead of the other two (with the appropriate library volume, although Artemis still detects enough motion to triangulate the girl's location). Cute, really, by first impression. Almost innocent more than anything else, especially with the odd disposable paper crown atop her flouncing ponytailed hair.

She stops at exactly Artemis's aisle, entranced by the colorful books on display. Artemis falters into the shadows, shrouding herself away from the well-lit middle of the building.

Then, Artemis peripherally detects the other two hustling over to catch up with the now motionless child. Juggling her options, she swiftly ducks into the next aisle closer towards the exit, and lightly scampers towards the center. The collision course is set.

She times it to perfection. Reyna, ahead of Percy, reaches a halt, but Percy is still a mid-step behind as Artemis reaches out and encloses her right hand on his left arm and -

They stand in the midst of the Garden of Bacchus, their continuing respective momentums throwing each off balance. It's a testament to his reaction time that his hand nearly at his watch, ready to deploy his shield. But in anticipation of his move, Artemis's hand is already there, blocking his access. As Percy's hand slaps onto hers, she swiftly immobilizes that arm also.

Artemis stares directly at him even while he's looking down between them, processing her unwavering grip over his shield. The shock at being so easily predicted, so easily neutralized, while minute, is telltale in the slight widening of his eyes. In the next instant, he looks up to her face. This time, Percy's jaw drops. "Luna-?"

She leans forward, and her lips are on his.

The goddess yanks him in closer as she turns into his lips with more aggression, and her nerves across her entire body can't help but scream in delight when he adjusts to respond softly.

And then his hands are cradling her head, gently pushing her away, even as he pulls back himself.

The kiss lasted only a few seconds.

She blinks rapidly as she refocuses, assessing what happened.

In the overwhelming instant of the contact, he'd extricated his hands from her loosened hold, and taken advantage of her … _distraction_ to maneuver away.

"I," Percy breathes out, "think I owed you that one." His hands drift from her head, and he flexes his left instinctively, before they come to rest rigidly at her shoulders, holding her in place, apart from him. He pauses, then closes his eyes, breathing unevenly. "But before anything else, _Artemis_ , I really need to know what the absolute fuck is going on."

With him before her, everything she's imagined that she might say to him when they met again over for the past two months flees her mind.

There was not another thing in the sky or another person in the garden - with good reason. The air was hot and heavy, the unfettered sun harsh and unforgiving. And, almost as if in spite, the surrounding flora flourished magnificently, even though weighed down by the oppressive heat.

None of it is conducive to her rationale. Her hands fidget as she pulls them to her sides, and she swallows thickly as thoughts slip between her fingers. "Uhm-"

"Should I ask the questions?" asks Percy, head slightly cocked as he examines her critically. Her eyes try to meet his, but they can't hold his gaze before wavering away.

"Uhm- yes- it's just- I-" The words cascade out of her mouth as Artemis tries to reestablish some sense of self-control. "I- since when? Wha-?"

Thankfully, Percy understands her well enough. "It wasn't that hard to figure out after you left. I had a few hunches … anyway, the gods were smart enough to keep it as quiet as possible. It helps that both you and I had been under the radar for a while already." He rubs his thumb against her shoulder, before taking her arm and leading her to a sitting position on the grass. "By that, I mean the Hunters never being in the public eye. And me not being unlucky or doing anything stupid that would get attention. Besides a breakup, I guess."

"The people around us were … _convinced_ that you were some minor god. Annabeth too, though I wouldn't put it past her to put the pieces together. I dunno, I haven't talked with her since." Percy settles down opposite of her, hands drifting down along her bare arm until his hands cusp one of hers. He looks down at it contemplatively. "But word has gotten out that you're missing. Your Hunt is searching for you. Only Hermes is on the lookout, though. Apparently only a few know some of the exact details of what's going on: Lord Zeus, Father, and Aphrodite."

Artemis shivers, and hides her face behind her other hand. She'd erased every footprint, physical and metaphysical. Overkill, because no one else knew half the signs to track as well as she did, and she'd covered all of them. No one could hunt her down if she went into hiding. Only Apollo could find her with his ridiculous precognition powers, but he still didn't have access to them. She could feel it.

Percy looks back to her, and Artemis feels one of his hands tense before it's gone in a flash. Nothing as bad as him feeling her every tremble - where did all her strength go? "There was a bit of a … private interrogation, let's say, by Zeus. Thankfully, I didn't know anything that would get me in trouble. Father explained some things to me after, though I'd guessed enough at that point." Acute green searches timid silver, and the silver slides away under the pressure. "Surprisingly, Aphrodite hasn't said anything to anyone. Anyone else, that is. She swore to me on the River Styx she had nothing to do with my relationships. That no one did."

Everything implied by that statement hangs in the air, toxic and irrefutable.

"Which leaves only two people left. My own relationship troubles are my own little … issue." He finally lets go of her, straightens his back, and rests his chin on his fists. "And Annabeth's, I suppose," he adds on as an afterthought. "But ignoring that, independent. My own little thing. I wasn't influenced at all. So that leaves _you_."

Artemis's now free hand fiddles at the fabric of her shorts, and she peeks under her hand to stare at the black denim under her fingertips. Anywhere but at his eyes. Still, she feels his pervasive gaze boring into her soul, and she squirms in discomfort.

"Eight weeks of silence. And you show up _today_ , out of nowhere. And how am I going to deal with Reyna later? Jeez, I hope she hasn't started some search party. Crap." He rolls his neck, and the violent cracks that fill the air make her flinch.

"Wait. I got this thing now." He pulls something (a phone?) from his pants pocket. "I'll text Reyna before she does anything crazy, and I beg you" - a hand brushes away hers, and pulls her chin up so she's staring at him in the eyes, where she can see the depths imploring her for some sense, some answer - "talk to me. Get yourself together. Please. I need - I need to understand."

"I'm-" He takes a shaky breath, dropping his hand. "I'm really trying to hold it together right now, because b**** f****** h**** a** t _*** g***d***** c*** a** c*** asina irrumabo stercore sumen gallus γαμώ κόλαση σκατά_ _ **γάιδαρος γαμημένος σκύλα!**_ "

The curses tumble out of his mouth with increasing vehemence but decreasing volume, until it's only a vicious murmur. Nonetheless, the sheer ferocity startles Artemis as she stares at his frustrated face, frightened and wide-eyed.

Percy visibly calms himself, shoulders rolling back and falling in a sigh. "Sorry - jus- I needed that. Just - it would help if you got yourself together, because I'm lost enough with all this shit as it is, and now you're here, and it's just -"

He stands. "Lemme just tell Reyna not to worry. Please have something to say when I come back." He turns abruptly and blazes through the garden, not looking back once before stopping just as suddenly ten yards away.

She's screwed up beyond belief. She'd never been in a worse position in all her life. Not in the Ancient times, not in the years following, not even being captured by Atlas or being stuck on Delos.

Because this time, there's no one on her side, no one that she can trust. And no one she can blame for not trusting in her. If the details got out - and out they would almost inevitably go - her Hunters would feel betrayed. No Olympians would rely on her again. Her almost pristine reputation, gone. Her life's edict, her entire identity as the Virgin Huntress, as Artemis, compromised by the catastrophe of the Summer Solstice.

She'd known the implications of her actions, but the consequences only now dawn on her with talking to Percy again.

Artemis observes Percy, the rhythmic rise and fall of his arms as he types away. He's dressed almost formally - a light blue dress shirt and khakis, even a tie. It's as if he's in the same clothes he wore to the dance, but in different colors. That, and a bit of a darker tan. And longer hair. Though the entire ensemble, his appearance - it feels messy. Unkempt.

He turns back to face her, and she blushes as he pauses to examine her in return. If he'd hardly changed since their last meeting, then she was hardly the same person. While Percy was still dressed reasonably formally, for whatever reason, she'd just worn what felt comfortable and unassuming. A silver blouse, olive dixie shorts, white tennis shoes, and letting her hair down so that she could blend in within New Rome. Although she'd kept her skin impossibly porcelain in the sunny weather.

She rubs her arms, feeling exposed under his scrutiny.

Percy walks back, methodical and unhurried now. But he goes on a detour long before reaching her, making his way through the garden until he's sitting on a backless stone bench fifteen feet away, across a patch of petunias comprised of every color. He makes no motion for her to come closer, no indication of invitation at all. And so she remains sitting on the grass, looking up at him as she desperately gathers her thoughts. He's frustratingly silent as he settles down, pulling up his legs underneath him, and leaning his head into his right hand. Then …

" _Why_?"

The question is quiet, but Artemis hears it clearly through the humming bees. She struggles with her response, not sure where to begin, but then his questions continue.

"Why were you there at the Winter Solstice? Why'd you lie to me about who you were? Why'd you not say anything at Camp Half Blood? Why all the Iris messages? Was it all just a lie?"

The questions are delivered without any listlessly, without any emotion backing them. And Artemis can't help but reflect to the last time she'd met Percy as Artemis, where their differences had kept him so excruciatingly distant. After all the progressing intimacy, when she'd been Luna - and now, only the shock cold of realism.

The goddess can't help but furiously wipe at her eyes as she finally answers.

"I- I never lied about who I was." She gasps quietly as she finishes the sentence. Seeing him open his mouth, she hurries on. "Please, just - just let me speak."

After a quick appraisal, he nods slowly. Artemis tucks her legs to the side, and shoves her hands into her lap. "I, I hate lying. I don't lie. Lies - lies are for the incompetent. It's just- I- I got caught up with everything, and it just consumed me, and even now-" she inhales sharply, "even now, all the emotions, it's just so overwhelming. I didn't mean for all this to happen, but I didn't know how to stop any of it, I didn't want to stop any of it-"

Another breath. He's listening to her, at least.

"It's not like I'm not Luna - I am Luna, it's just another name, it's always been me-" A final, sharp, intake. She can't keep talking on like this. From the beginning, coherently. What did he ask first?

"I'd- I was there during the Winter Solstice because I couldn't stand staying at Olympus. I'd gone down to Central Park because it was close, convenient. It was familiar, it was nature. And then I found you - or you found me - and then I got caught up in trying to understand you better, and it was so much easier forgetting myself. And, and you made it so easy to, and then by the end … by the end, I was happy just to not care for anything … anything but be happy."

Artemis wipes away a few tears before they can leave her eyes. Her eyes refocus on Percy, who's straightfaced but clearly engrossed in her words.

"I didn't know what to do after you pulled me from the water, and one thing led to another, and I hadn't really gone on from there expecting anything else. I thought you'd be like the usual male, even though you'd proven me wrong so many times already, didn't expect you to try and keep in touch, and by the time I'd found you in Camp Half Blood I was too scared of trying to reveal I was also Luna. You were troubled then, how was I to predict how you would react?"

"And for the Iris Messages - I was only too happy to be distracted from everything else. I didn't want to lose any of it. And then I'd finally called you on that day - well, I didn't _intend_ to. I'd been delirious enough from drinking too much to initiate an Iris Message myself, and then it had gotten redirected to you, and then just seeing you I'd opened up everything I could say without giving anything away …"

Her ramble finally trickles down, and Percy uses that moment to tentatively interject. "So." He swallows thickly, eyes both on her and in the distance, remembering. "You were actually mourning a friend's death, then."

"Y-yes," Artemis responds, shivering as she recalls the past. "Nothing was ever false - I'd actually drowned myself in that much liquor, because another Hunter actually died-" the goddess shudders again. "I just c-couldn't take another one of my followers dying."

"I've - I've never lost so many Hunters so quickly. Starting off with Zöe … and all those that perished in the defense of Olympus. And then - and then again at the Wolf House, and then near the end by fucking thrice damned Orion …" She trails off poignantly. "The Hunter have always been made up by whoever wished to join. And I've so rarely lost any, perhaps one or two a century at most. There's always been enough time to grieve, to mourn the loss. But then the wars came, on the grand cycle, and we had to be involved. So swiftly, everyone departing - even all the handmaidens that traditionally stay at Olympus and the few palaces eventually went off to battle. And I couldn't stand Olympus, seeing my empty palace, I couldn't stand Camp Half Blood, I moved the Hunt away as soon as I could …"

Artemis swipes away at a final tear. "And now there are less than a dozen left. I haven't had the heart to recruit anyone … it's too soon. Half of them were with me, and then Mar- Martha died that day, and then I went looking for comfort …"

She sees some grand realization forming in Percy's eyes, in his posture. "And then I found it. And … I've been obsessed with the source of it ever since."

"I didn't know how I could anticipate something so much. I didn't know how I could be so happy. I didn't know why I wanted to spend so much time with a male - actually, I do know the answer for all of that." She smiles, a quiet ray of moonlight. "Because of you. Even if I didn't know what I really wanted to do then. And by the time I did - well-"

Artemis's smile fades.

What else could she say? "I've … I've screwed up, so badly. I am so very sorry for all the trouble I probably caused you. I- I don't know how it came to this, but all of it - all of my actions and intentions have always been genuine. I just - just don't understand them, or what's to come … I'm trying to follow them where they go. I don't know where that will be, but I know that I feel so much more free, so much more happy, so much more _myself_ doing so. I am Luna, I've listened to all your stories and problems. I am Artemis, the goddess that's come to understand you and respect you all the more for it. I don't know where any of this is going … but I'm sorry for deceiving you."

The goddess takes one final shaky breath. She's said her piece. She'd - she'd probably said more than she'd originally wanted to reveal, but at this point it hardly mattered. She'd answered the best she could, and everything that could be said was said.

After a long minute of processing, Percy finally speaks up. "I'm … I'm sorry about the Hunters. I hadn't really realized …"

A twinge of irritation passes. Artemis despises the pity - but it's not pity, it's empathy. And she's moving on from that, as much as it hurts. "It was … it was never your place to know."

Silence falls again. The weather is no better, and sweat begins to make their clothing damp and sticky.

"Is that why you're here? After all this time? Why now? Where were you?"

"I- I've been hiding out in New Rome almost to begin with. Any divine use of power, especially transportation, is potentially traceable, and here I could stay without any of that. I could blend among the crowds, the Olympians would never expect me to hide in a city. And … and I remembered from our talks, your future plans in this city."

She swallows, concerned for that awkward admission. "I didn't know when you would arrive, especially with my … _other_ identity's origin from here possibly affecting your decision. But then, serendipitously, I saw you at the library. I didn't know what to say, I didn't know what to do, and it was too risky to follow you. I couldn't find where you'd gone after, but then you were there again the next week. I left another week to be sure, and try to figure out what to say, but I'd been too scared."

"Today, today I just went for it. In retrospect, it was foolish … but I don't think anyone will search New Rome for me after that bit of teleportation. I suppose … oh, this is so embarrassing …" Artemis pulls up her legs, and buries her face in her knees.

…

"What now, then?" Percy asks unevenly.

…

"I don't know," Artemis whispers, but her voice carries nonetheless. "I was hoping you would know."

The goddess hears the discordant grind of hands clenching, the click of his jaw tightening, the muttered curse under his breath.

She flinches as he finally explodes.

"How is this fair? _Irrumabo_ , gods damned a-" He cuts himself off, before staring at her accusingly. "You ruined the night for me, did you know that? No, you ruined the sky for me. Every time I'm outside, I see the sky, and just look up and see you. Or I don't see you. Whenever, day or night. I see you, in the hours before twilight as you phase in, or through the night, or in the morning, as you phase out, and feel _reassured_. Even when it's a new moon, when I can't see you at all, that I can look up in the day and know you're _there_. Or when I know you're not, I just feel fucking _worse_."

"Did you expect this to work out? These relationships aren't ever _fulfilling_ , even my _mom_ moved on! I don't even - I'm here, all myself, trying to deal with this, and you're not even all here, I can't even have _all_ your attention because you're a _goddess_ , you can't even be here in your _complete form_ -"

"No." She can't do much besides feel guilty for all the pain she's caused him, and let him let out his anger justifiably, without divine retribution. But she can't let this point slide.

Percy stops in his tracks, likely because he just remembered she's a goddess. And it makes her feel all the worse, wielding such power over him, unintentionally but undeniably affecting how he acts with her. He simmers, silent and unwilling to interrupt her. "I don't … allow my presence to be invoked like other gods do. I have long learned my lessons where the others do not - I don't let prayers get to my head, I have distanced myself from the trivialities of the mortal world, I am past claiming superiority over mortals. How - how do I explain …?

"Gods assume their divine form when they're a singular being. And you've learned that seeing a god's form is lethal. But the divine form _can_ be seen by mortals. It's just a matter of us consciously limiting the metaphysical loose energies. The others are too … arrogant to bother with self restraint." Artemis can't help but snort a little, despite the current atmosphere. "It's a badge of power, a casual display that forces mortals to avert their eyes from us, just because we can. For there is naught else they can do in our divine apathy. Amensalism, taken to the twelfth degree."

"But I've, I've hated that. After … maturing, and learning to restrain my temper from the ancient days, there was no place else I wished to be but with my Hunt. Even t-they, with my blessing, couldn't look at my form. So I learned how to control that power, and I've remained my cohesive self for over two millennia. Even for the Greek and Roman divide, the Romans almost never invoked Diana over the course of history. The Romans never talk about my Hunt. So I stayed with my Hunters … and …"

"So I am here, all of myself. With you. With all these … emotions, because of you."

No.

"For you."

Percy releases a directionless, irritated growl. "What am I supposed to do, though? What can I do? You are _the_ virgin goddess. Like, who else? Hestia? Not even Athena, because of all her children, but you are the _untouchable_. What will I do, what will _you_ do when some details of a relationship get out? What will your Hunters do, what would the other gods do? What if they try to screw with me, what if they try to screw with _you_?"

He stands, insistent on making a point. "How are you even sure? Is it even _worth_ it, is it even _right_? Whatever your feelings, I don't - I don't think we should be together."

The words fall heavier than the sky on her shoulders.

"Bu-? wha-?" Artemis doesn't know if she's yelling, or screaming, or laughing, or crying. All she knows is that she's know standing now, vibrating with confused outrage, despising the distance they put between them beyond measure. "Why? I -"

"Well what's the point? Like, why _me_? Do you know how long whatever would last? Do you even really know your own feelings? How is this fair, Lu- Artemis?"

Are those tears on her face? "I'm in love with you! I'm in love with you, alright?!"

But then, for all his earlier vehemence, Percy responds with nothing. He only stands there, across the rich and ponderous petunias, with next to no visible reaction. Only … only the most minute of frowns. His eyes glimmer with night, the same utterly inscrutable emotions as before.

"DON'T YOU GET IT?" The goddess darts, stomps, darts through the bloom, tearing up the flowers and apathetically knocking aside a small statue underfoot in her disregard for everything. Everything, that is, but Percy.

Artemis dives into his chest, arms up and hands clutching her head - then, with fists raised and ready to pummel him, she screams her soul out deep into his heart. "I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU, YOU BLOODY FUCKING BAST-"

And then delicately, delicately, Percy snatches her hands from the air, as if they had no strength or force or power or reason behind them to begin with. She stares down, ashamed, before tracking his left hand with her eyes as he gently pulls her right hand between their stomachs. Then, heart beating out of her chest, Artemis turns her head to watch as he lets go, to use both hands to bring her other hand up to his face, twisting it to face him when reaches chest-level.

Their gazes meet, and silver and confused and despairing and embarrassed locks on emerald and tranquil and anxious and lamenting.

He lowers his head to meet her by the forehead, then, oh so excruciatingly slowly, pulls her hand closer to his mouth, and then kissing her where her palm meets her wrist. No - not quite kissing - resting his dry lips on her tingling skin, while her slack fingers tremble over his now closed eyes.

"And I- … oh, fuck me … and I- love- you."

Artemis almost missed the whisper, the disjointed phrase that falls from his lips. She more feels the declaration as puffs of air against her skin than anything she consciously hears, but her insides both freeze ice cold and melt red hot all the same.

She's absolutely certain she heard them.

And now, at that thought, her insides seize and revolt, as if her organs lurched. A tingling wave of electricity consumes her whole body.

Percy drops her hand, and it falls to rest on his chest. He takes a deep breath, which Artemis unconsciously mirrors.

Then he seizes her by the head and kisses her, fervid and determined. Artemis's eyes flash open in shock, completely taken aback, before fluttering half-lidded as she reciprocates with all her soul. One of his hands finds its way to her back, still drawing her into his body almost painfully, and she clutches at his shirt, trying to find some grip to hold onto in the tumultuous deluge of passion.

Fuck the world and fuck the gods and fuck the Hunt. She wants the person that's making her spirit swell beneath her skin, the person that's making her heart touch heaven and hell, the person that's drowning her with passion she only hopes she can reciprocate.

She wants Percy.

Finally, he pulls away, eyes softly shut and breathing wildly. Artemis gasps for air too. Her bewilderment from before the kiss now feels like nirvana, compared to the conflicting feelings she's flooded by now.

And after another eternity, his eyes open and he relinquishes his grip on her body. Their eyes lock once more. Percy takes a shaky, measured, breath - far more composed than the shuddering nigh-heaves that makes her feel so out of control. His hands ghost down her from before resting around her waist, as hers find their way to his shoulders - just like at the fateful solstice.

Then he pulls her closer, steps in closer, wrapping his hands behind her lower back as her arms fall to snake their way through his embrace to cusp his upper back, and their heads find their way to the groove of the other's neck.

Finally, he raises an arm to pat and rub her head, before raising his own head and pulling Artemis in tighter, almost painfully close. Still comforting away, Percy holds her head to his chest, where she listens to the gradually calming pulse of his heart as his chest rumbles with his unhurried, repeated, admission.

"And I love you."

Artemis opens her eyes to stare out across Percy, to where a statue of Bacchus watches them almost in accusation - and closes her eyes once more. She settles into place, taking in the glorious warmth that Percy emanates. It soothes her hyperactive body, even if her thoughts remain delirious.

"Fucking Athena," she hears him whisper. "Fucking fatal flaw."

Percy partially disentangles himself from her to move over the bench, and she follows suit. A leg on each side, he sits, and Artemis lowers herself over him, wrapping her arms and legs around him.

She can't remember the last time she'd given or received personal affection. At least, besides with Percy. It's been so long, and the wondrous _rush_ of contact is the most addictive drug.

It's there, with her head tucked into the crook of his neck, face turned outwards, that she listens to him speak. That she listens with a breaking heart.

"This just - it can't work. What - what are we supposed to do? I've loved getting to know you, getting to spend time with you, but I don't even know if we enjoy the same things. And even then - am I supposed to join you and the Hunt? But that would be staying, and all those Ancient Laws say you aren't supposed to. And me going about my life, getting old, getting a job or something - how will that work out? When I grow up, what if you don't want to stay anymore? What if things change?" He pauses, sighing. His heart is beating like a drum, pulsing into the rhythm of her own.

"No. Things will change. Things always change. I'll change. I'll grow." She can his muscles warp on her skin, feel his face twist into some distorted version of a smile. "But you won't. But you won't. Because gods don't change."

He repeats his statement again - no, he amends it. "Because gods can't change."

Artemis flinches, her embrace tightening. Her mind flashes back to that first night, to that soul-condemning dance, to her desperate belief in that glorious midnight that things could be different. That things for her weren't absolute, that she could change.

"Right? Didn't you say?" He chuckles bitterly, and his own cuddle constricts around her. "And it's because of that that things won't work. I see what you mean now, when you said gods couldn't change. You just get … _immortalized_ as who you are. You get stuck."

But … didn't she change? If she hadn't, would she even be here in this situation?

"You'll be stuck while I keep changing. Son of the Sea, hm? It's in my nature."

What would happen if she changed?

"But my fatal flaw is loyalty - I know - I know that I will care, I know I will love you forever. But my forever _ends_. Your forever, though … can you say the same?"

Her lips begin to move in response, even though she doesn't know her answer yet. But then he grabs at back, bunching up her blouse underneath his fists, and she stops. The sun above burns on her skin, hotter than ever.

"Don't - don't answer. Because if you couldn't love me forever, it wouldn't be worth it. And if you could … then I love you too much to let you hurt yourself that way."

Her limbs are too weak to keep him from leaving. And with a final, far too tender kiss on her forehead, Percy does exactly that.

The problem of immortality … is that there is too much time.

Artemis weeps.


	6. Divinity's Death

" _There are nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls." George Carlin_

* * *

The sky burns a rich, bloody ombre. The clouds char black before layers of amber light, even as the sun dips past the distant horizon.

Artemis watches steadily, not making a single sound. She is comfortable where she is, as timeless and ageless as the cycles she both witnesses and represents. Her arms loosely hug her right leg, with her other leg tucked beneath.

It's picturesque, sitting at the edge of a churning waterfall, gazing beyond to the sunset.

In her current position, she would've been exposed enough to be considered scandalous in her classic tunic. But times change - Artemis is dressed in modern sensibilities. Silver long sleeves, jeans, tennis shoes, and an oversized but nonetheless cozy olive army jacket.

The goddess has nothing against contemporary fashion. She wears it often enough, after all, as they are simply designed better for outdoor wear and tear, and various climates and environments. She does not _dislike_ , per se. But she _likes_ the more archaic tunic, as impractical and strange it would be to wear today. A return to form, a quiet simplicity and freedom.

Alas, sacrifices must be made. Clothing is hardly noteworthy, at best. Everything is predicated on what happens next, all the chips are down - she must be prepared for what's to come.

Or rather, what she hopes is to come.

Hopefully this works. There isn't a set formula for what she's about to do.

Some things are clear. Sundown is appropriate. It is not her moon, but her soul is its last quarter. Not visible until past midnight. Its phase is quite fitting … but ultimately subservient to more immediate, more relevant, more _powerful_ auspices.

The setting sun is that - partially. The concept of constancy, of balance, is more prevalent in the tandem of day and night by the sun. Artemis has long accepted the sun's supremacy in that matter. It is as it should be. The moon, on the other hand, is about change.

Change, and insanity. Also appropriate.

Nevertheless, it is not that every sunset is so relevant. Today's, Artemis rationalizes, is only so due to its tandem with the autumnal equinox.

Now is a multiplicity of shifts - the fall of day before night, as nights begin to outlast days.

A wolf howl pierces the rumble of the waterfall, soon followed by a familiar series of harmonizations. A special, almost distinctive call, taught to her hunting companions. Artemis doubts anyone but her can recognize the exact pattern anymore, and the subcontext of the modulations that conveyed information on the target.

In this case: Singular. No scent. Two hundred meters. Stationary. Female. Extremely powerful. Approach with caution.

Artemis had given up on covering her tracks weeks ago. Essentially, she'd gone from _absolutely_ untraceable to _almost_ untraceable.

She'd known her Hunt was on her tail for the past few days. She had stayed in the general area of this falls for a week, so it was unsurprising that someone finally got close. And it was … right, that it was her Hunt to do so. Only Zeus would know how she would respond to someone else finding her, or, Father forbid, _Apollo_ finding her.

That tangent - her brother - yanks at her thoughts, distracting Artemis even as she senses her Hunters closing in.

It had been a year since she's felt her brother's presence.

For all the crap she'd gotten shoved in her lap by Apollo, for all her anger at his idiotic mistake - scratch that, mistakes - he'd been a good sibling. Their issues had never been any direct grievance, and for all their fighting, it was always just the quintessential squabbles of siblinghood.

Wasn't that funny? It's the end, and her last thoughts are of her brother. Not quite the end, but who cared about the semantics?

What wonderful irony, that it's her brother that led her to this point. Even with Percy's … reasoning behind not being together, she would have never considered the option she's taking now without the example of her twin.

The sun is so low that everything between her and the sun are only silhouettes, pure shadow.

Perhaps she'll see him again in the next life.

With that morbid thought, she _twists -_ and then slips over the edge. Carried by the water, down into the darkness.

It's barely a drop, the waterfalls being as small as they are. A path diverged, one continuing, the other into, according to mortals, the unknown.

In that moment, in that fall, Artemis catches a glimpse of her Hunt, bursting out into the clear, a name of Thalia's lips - and then she's gone.

The only sign that Artemis was ever there is a single arrow embedded into the rock, with a damp note attached, fluttering in the breeze.

* * *

Past the initial rush, beyond the reach of sunlight, the black that swallows Artemis is absolute. Eyes wide shut, she sees nothing. It's impossible to even know if there is any light emanating from her silver aura. She can only hear the sound of rushing water be replaced by whistling wind, and feel her stomach heave as she falls and falls and falls and falls and falls …

There are dozens and dozens of passageways into the Underworld, known and not. Those not monitored always share one characteristic - the risk of traveling through.

The wind whipping by her ears sounds vast - the hole must have widened after the initial entry point. Artemis spreads her arms and legs into freefall position, doing her best to slow her descent.

Decades ago, she'd smelled the vile and unmistakable aroma of the Underworld at that waterfall. It had just been a curiosity at the time. The fact that a possible entry to Hades's realm existed had filtered to the back of her mind, amongst the many hunting grounds and trails she remembered.

When Artemis realized she required a method to get to the Underworld undetected for her plans, she'd immediately thought of the strange waterfall. After a few days of investigation and probing, the goddess verified that the hole in the Earth literally reached hell (she'd manifested an arrow then dropped it, and eventually, her sixth sense told her the shaft of moonlight had hit rock bottom). Whether she could pass through both safely and under the radar was a different question altogether.

A question Artemis really wishes she had the answer to, as she continues to fall. She doesn't dare use any of her powers anymore - anything like transforming or extending her senses is akin to ringing her Uncle's doorbell.

The wind is getting louder, funneling up - she can feel the rock around her tapering, narrowing. How close would the walls get? Flicking knives from her sleeves, the goddess takes a deep breath and clenches her jaw. Closing her eyes, she reverses her grip and performs a single overhead stab, driving a silver blade into the rock.

As her upper half begins to slow, her lower half continue at the same speed. As a result, the rest of her body flies toward the wall. In a second, lower stab, Artemis keeps herself from splattering against the wall, though she's sure she's caused some internal bleeding from a knife handle to the gut.

Still her momentum continues on, and her blades carve their way through the earth as she holds on, tighter than death. Despite her supernatural strength and body, it's as if her arms are being torn off.

She's a goddess - she can survive smashing into the Underworld at 120 miles per hour. Nonetheless, Artemis prefers all the abuse her arms can take to that prospect.

It takes a minute of pulverizing stone and screeching metal, bleeding palms and slippery handles, and sore arms and heaving breaths for her to grind to a halt. Artemis doesn't know how long she waits to recover, but she chides herself back into action when shrapnel no longer rains from above.

Opening her eyes, she blinks as she realizes she can see again. The silver light of her aura is unrepentant, revealing to her eyes the golden ichor dripping from her palms, and the deep, vicious gouges in the stone before her. Swallowing thickly, she looks down to her feet, and her eyes widen in surprise as they adjust to the tiniest hint of blue-ish light below her. It's a pinprick, hundreds of feet down, and she can't tell where it opens to.

But where else could she go?

Artemis half-heartedly tugs at her knives, hoping to keep her weapons. But she has neither the strength nor the leverage for it.

The goddess groans as she lets go of a knife, hanging on by only her right arm. Flexing, she lets her last knife drop down her sleeve.

But before she can do anything else, her grip slips, and she plummets. Trying to stab into the wall again rattles her entire arm, and her left hand spasms, causing her to lose that blade as well.

Fuck.

The ground approaches. She can already feel the agonizing pain of impact.

She can't look. Artemis rolls into a ball, hoping for the best.

* * *

When Artemis is conscious again, she's exactly where she wants to be.

The Styx was the border between Earth and the Underworld. Every passage always leaves the visitor on the other side of the river.

Ignoring the pain echoing throughout all of her body, she stands and stares into the polluted waters, looking more made of broken dreams than liquid.

Artwork after contract after diploma after corsage after toy after dress after rin-

She steps into the shallows, picking out a silver ring before it can drift too far. Its design is simple, but the most obvious feature is a gash in the metal.

Her hopes and dreams shall not share the same fate.

Artemis drops the silver band, before flinching (painfully) in surprise when another hand rises from the river to catch it.

A young girl made only of inky water rises from beneath the layers of debris.

"What brings you here, Lady Artemis?" Styx gurgles disinterestedly, her liquid gaze unfathomable.

"I- I come to forswear my oath." There is no more room for hesitation - Artemis has done too much, gone too far for all to come to naught. The river goddess shall not faze her now.

"Oh?" Styx replies, montone. "That's new. You only have the one oath, and you have yet to even break it. Not that anyone takes the consequences seriously anymore. No one has drank from my waters in over a millenia."

Artemis focuses through the pain, looking at Styx in the eye. "I know you can do much more than that, Styx. I was not there, but my brother …"

Styx tilts her head, finally reacting. "I suppose I should be surprised, but twins have always been been different." She facepalms, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "And that suggests your wish is to do the same. Reckless. Foolhardy. Insane."

Artemis nods, ignoring Styx's comments.

"Do what you will, then, Artemis …" The goddess gives her one last watery look. "I respect your conviction, if nothing else. You have my blessing," she adds, almost mournfully. Then Styx's presence disappears, and the body of water she inhabited loses form, splashing down back into the river.

All alone now. The goddess presses forward, and stops as the water reaches her waist.

The water is more turbulent here, and the magical properties within are finally making themselves known. Her legs are tingling unpleasantly - it's not hurting her, but the sensation is alien and strange.

Time to embrace it.

Artemis turns around, facing the shore she left moments before.

She closes her eyes, and remembers.

She remembers her birth, and her brother's birth.

She remembers arriving at Olympus.

She remembers her oath to her father.

She remembers the parts already broken: swearing to oversee childbirth, to stay away from the cities; or obsolete: her Cyclops forged weapons, the loss of her companions …

Time for the rest to become mere memory.

"I renounce my names," Artemis begins, whispering. She lowers her hands into the river, letting them trail off in the current.

"Aeginaea. Lygodesma. Naupactus. Agoraea. Argrotera. Aphaea. Potnia Theron. Kourotrophos. Locheia. Cynthia. Amarynthia. Phoebe. Alphaea. Anaitis. Apanchomene."

So many names that she'd asked for in vain, to distinguish herself from Apollo.

How infantile.

"Phaesphoria."

She shudders, reciting this one in particular. It's the only one she'd wanted specifically, the only one that had any meaning to her to begin with and any meaning left.

But it had to go.

"I renounce my titles," Artemis says, voice softer than before. "Artemis of the Wildlands. Mistress of the Animals. Bringer of the Moon."

She gasps, a wet breath that restrains the tears at the corners of her eyes. "Goddess of the Hunt."

Something incorporeal is leaving her, something she knows she will never know. Something beyond her understanding, beyond anyone's understanding.

Her final ties, shattering.

Artemis smiles, a fragmented expression that conveyed something irrevocably broken … but also something undeniably happy.

Her final words are spoken conversationally, undercutting their weight. Not that it mattered.

"I renounce my maidenhood. I renounce my godhood. I renounce my immortality."

And with that, she falls into the Styx.

* * *

All her pain is … gone, washed away. It's so comfortable in the waters.

Artemis wants to fall asleep. It seems so easy, to just drift off, fade away …

It would be nice to just disappear. No more weight on her shoulders, no more worries, no more pain … Just forget who she is.

 _Alrighty then_ , a familiar voice said. And _I thought I was the idiot._

A shock passes through her system, and her eyes jolt open. She's no longer drowsy, and the Styx tears her away downstream, tumbling her end over end.

"I guess you actually fell in the water this time." It's Percy's voice, much clearer now. "Hey, don't drown on me now. You don't wanna be the damsel in distress, do ya?"

Her eyesight sharpens, her body is reinvigorated. Artemis resists the rapids, looking up to the surface. Percy's there, peering through a hole in the sheets of ice. He's holding in a chuckle, in his camp clothing and dripping wet.

"Well, how about it, Moonbeam?" He smiles. "Come on. Take my hand."

And the memories come flooding back, sharper and more vivid than ever before. She was here for a reason, and she's done. It's time to go.

She reaches up and takes his hand.

Artemis bursts out of the river, out of a hole in the ocean, and lands on the rocky shore.

She groans - everything hurts again - and props herself up. Everything's too bright - she uses a hand to block out the sun - the sun?

Her eyes adjust, and she moves her arm just in time to see the sun descend behind the Pacific Ocean.

Blinking in surprise, Artemis rubs her eyes - but no, she's actually here.

Then she turns her attention to her stinging hands, red rivulets of blood trickling down her arm -

What?

She flips her hand, and her palm is crimson, blood leaking from her self-inflicted wounds.

It's too much.

She blacks out.


	7. Cloud's Rest

" _We were together. I forget the rest." Walt Whitman_

* * *

Lightly, lightly. Steady breaths.

Heel to toe, heel to toe.

It's strange, needing to exercise. Regular physical exertion is nothing unfamiliar, of course it's not. Though her endurance is (understandably) far less than what it once was. Thankfully, her strength is more than sufficient for even a … _bad_ day, if necessary. She just can't, say, fight continuously for a few days anymore. Or, in that regard, go without sleep whatsoever anymore.

Artemis has already pulled off a few all-nighters, even consecutively - but it's very unpleasant. She hadn't realized she _needed_ to sleep at first until she'd conked out in the middle of a forest.

Much like she'd later gone without any exercise for two weeks, and then she'd noticed her body getting out of shape.

That had surprised her, actually frightened her. As a goddess, she did occasionally sleep. Very rarely, perhaps, and in a context mortals would fail to comprehend, but she had experienced sleep. Even restrooms and menstruation, however embarassing, were immediately intuitive. Yet gaining weight, visibly getting fatter and affecting her athleticism?

Artemis had panicked for well over a day until she realized what the problem. Honestly, given the overweight nature of the mortals that surrounded her, and the sheer amount of gyms, sports venues, and bikers and joggers, she maybe should've known the issue and solution sooner.

It was a little inconvenient to _need_ to exercise to stay fit, and not be able to go on stretches of time to remain healthy and look as she wished. She'd known her corporeal form would be locked when she became mortal, and adjusted accordingly. She understands that time and age will cause changes, and she believes she can handle that. Artemis just never considered the factor of _maintaining_ her appearance, or her body's condition.

Sure, she's probably equivalent to a very powerful demigod at this point, having a great metabolism and literally a god's amount of experience. Great "natural" gifts, with her being unlikely to get sick as long as she remains physically fit.

Artemis just never needed to _work_ for that. It's not that it's hard to, or that she doesn't do so in her usual activities. She enjoys physical exertion on a normal basis, _obviously_. As a goddess, as of now, she can't resist going out for a dash through nature.

But other things did take precedence sometimes. Things like recovering items from several dead drops. Or relocating bolt holes. Or establishing a proper identity. All uneventful but necessary things she needs to sacrifice her "exercise" time for.

She's honestly underestimated the sheer tedium of some of the things she's had to do, but at least most of it is out of the way. Moving possessions around is a pain without the ability to teleport anywhere she wishes. So many minor trivialities that just get in the way.

At least she had a magical bag to move everything at once. Having very few possessions also helps - few worthwhile possessions, at least. Beyond all the stashes of weapons she needs to collect, there's only a few dozen sets of clothing and books.

Really, she'd have gone out jogging earlier. But a thick fog had swallowed the city, and sure, the winter winds only just cleared that mess out. But the fogs wouldn't keep her from going out and about - in fact, she enjoys the environment change even more. It's just that had been the perfect time to sneak onto Olympus for her last (for lack of a better word) re-acquisitions trip.

Clearing her head out with some jogging after that little adventure is a treat.

The adventure itself, though … the sheer blast of adrenaline from infiltrating her former home was exhilarating. The thrill of danger and excitement, the palpable risk of discovery now that she's mortal - oh, _wow_. Sneaking around was both unexpectedly and expectedly easy, to be quite honest, but none of that had negated the absolute rush of the occasion.

All it took was some silver clothing, and no one question her. The floor security "guard" let her up after she said "Hunter business," and after that she had free reign. Besides a few actual Hunters milling about her palace that she ducked around, Artemis had an easy time retrieving all the belongings she still wanted. Between all the magical clothing, enchanted weaponry, and a whole library, and too much ambrosia and nectar (for first aid reasons - she can't indulge anymore), she'd managed to retrieve quite a lot. Things were made a bit simpler by those preparing for or even already celebrating the solstice, but she'd essentially just walked in and walked out.

Frankly, though, there were a lot more silver clothed females around than she last remembered. And there were none that she recognized, save one.

Thalia looked a bit stressed, a bit busy. Her former lieutenant was dealing with things left and right, directing Hunter after Hunter to do one thing or another.

Artemis wishes her good fortune. Thalia doesn't need it, Artemis is confident she knows what she's doing. But it doesn't hurt.

With that, Artemis pushes all thoughts of her no longer relevant past out of her mind.

No point dwelling on things from the past any more than absolutely necessary. There is nothing she can change about it - she will mourn what she has mourned, and she will wonder what she can wonder, but she will not regret.

She's regret enough. Time is too short to bother with regret now.

Hm. There's a hint of death and dog fur, and just the slightest rustling. Not breaking her stride in the least, Artemis pulls an arrow from her leggings pocket with her right hand, then nocks it on a hair tie around her left wrist. Yanking sharply, the tie snaps, and a bow forms from the break. She rolls her hand and fixes her grip, then launches the arrow off into the foliage with nary a glance.

A low whine reaches her ears, and the beast flees through the shadows.

Damn. The kill shot should've been easy, but she'd screwed up the fletching of her arrow severely while pulling it from her pocket. Artemis needs to practice drawing from it more.

A magical quiver that could be inserted into a pocket is good for incognito purposes, and there had been a few here and there. They weren't as accessible as a standard quiver, though. Even a hip quiver was more convenient for hunting. But in the midst of a metropolitan city? Artemis can't pull arrows out of light anymore, not without exhausting herself after a dozen. Pocket quiver it was.

Another task for the to-do list, then. Something for another time. For now … Artemis relaxes her hand, opening her palm, and the bow shrinks back around her pale wrist. She stops abruptly without a sound, all forward movement instantly seizing.

Every single one of her runs in Central Park always end up here. Here, by the reservoir, no matter what path she takes, her feet carry her to the false lake. And judging by the current trend, she'll stand here for a few minutes, hoping to see Percy pop out of the water and greet her.

Maybe he'll actually be here today. Maybe he'll ditch the solstice again. Maybe he's waiting, hoping to see her too …

A girl can dream.

Artemis leans against a maple tree, (dis)content to wait longer today. It's a bit cold - her silver tee doesn't cover her forearms, so she rubs them absently. Nothing she can't tolerate … she'll get something to warm herself up later. For now, she watches the icy waters lap against the shore, wondering when she'll be ready to hunt him down.

It should be soon. Artemis is certain Percy is home for the holidays. She has around two and a half weeks before the New Rome College starts again.

After the New Year, Artemis decides. She still needs to get things in order first.

Rumination complete, she climbs up the maple to retrieve the satchel she'd hidden there before her run, ambles her way out of the park, humming vacantly. Time is finite, yes - so she savors her walk, and the view of the subdued city. She may prefer vivid constellations and clear air, but she can appreciate the muted lights of a quieted New York City.

Sure, it never sleeps, but it's definitely more somber at nighttime in the right places.

Artemis enjoys the cooldown stroll from her two hour jog, satisfied to spend another hour getting to her next destination. She ruffles through her bag, on a routine check to ensure everything is inside. Weapons, first aid, snacks, water … she pulls out the plastic bottle for a quick draft.

Needing to staying hydrated is a pain in the ass, too, but nothing worth getting into. Immortals drank for pleasure, not necessity. Apparently, beyond feeling thirsty, not drinking water for three days killed mortals. Go figure.

Anyways. Her destination. If she has to drink, she wants it to taste good, at least. Enough water for health, then something tasty for everything else. It's only a quaint little coffee shop, but out of all the ones near the apartment she's holed up in at the moment, it's her favorite. There's just something about coffee that calls just like nature does - though maybe she wants hot cocoa today.

Also, knowing the true mythology behind the shop name just tickles her every time she sees the lettering above the entrance. Sometimes she can only marvel at just how deeply her ancient culture influences modern day mortals, outside of the more … _direct_ scenarios, like Typhon.

Even with the Mist, Artemis will never comprehend how mortals rationalized a new lake forming in rural West Virginia.

It's with this distracted thought in her head when she crashes into someone trying to leave the very establishment she's trying to enter.

"Schist - sorry about that, miss, gotta go." The boy stabilizes whatever he's holding, sparing only half a glance at her, and then he's already walking away.

Damn inconsiderate New Yorkers - if she could still polymorph people - Artemis seizes the swinging door, and the tingling entry chimes settle.

Wait. Schist?

Fuck.

Slamming the door shut, she turns around, already in motion to bolt off in the direction the person was heading -

Just to crash once again into the exact same person. This time they knock each other to the pavement, and the drinks the boy had been holding along with them.

Artemis gets to her feet, while he scrambles to salvage the cardboard drink carrier before all the drinks it holds spill. "Gods darnit! Friggin-"

"Percy?" She asks hesitantly, hand outstretched to help him up, even though she knows it's him.

And then the Son of the Sea (because it is him, it's definitely him) gives up on the drinks, letting them drain away, in favor of staring up at Artemis as if he's not sure his eyes are working right.

She can't help but smile, seeing him again, as dumbfounded as he looks crouching on the ground. No drink will warm her up more than whatever feeling growing within her right now.

He stands, not taking her hand, eyes still staring, wide and confused. "Lun- Artemis- I saw- thought it was you but- what- why-?"

She opens her mouth to respond, but words fail her - she knows whatever that will come out will be equally incomprehensible. Screw it.

She dashes in, wrapping her arms around him, pressing into the demigod as if she's trying to meld their bodies into one. And her smile widens, the warmth blossoms as he reciprocates, almost twirling her around as he redirects her sudden momentum. So many fears silenced by a single gesture.

Her skin prickles under the gaze of other mortals around them, but the feeling disappears quickly.

New York is a strange place.

Artemis doesn't know how much longer they just hold each other, standing in a puddle of coffee and hot chocolate. It must be a few minutes, but eventually Percy eases away, arms gradually pulling away. Artemis acquiesces, and then they're apart, Percy's sea-green eyes staring into hers as he gently holds her by the shoulders.

And she can't help but crack a smile again, watching him repeatedly open his mouth to ask a question, but no sound come out as he reconsiders and shuts his mouth again.

"Here." Artemis's amusement softens, deciding to pull him out of his predicament. "How about I explain everything inside?"

She pulls open the door, waiting patiently as Percy swiftly picks up the wasted drinks and throws them away. A snappy text to someone (probably his mother) and a thank you later, they're sitting in the warmly hued cafe, regarding each other over the menus on the booth table.

It somehow always ends up like this, doesn't it. But seeing him, dressed as casually as ever and a black jacket more, just taking him in … it's nice.

Music permeates the background atmosphere of the restaurant, quiet yet lively: … _Fill my heart with song - and let me sing, for-ever more …_

The waiter arriving breaks their impasse. "A hot cocoa, please," orders Artemis.

"Same thing," adds Percy, and the waiter nods and leaves.

"So." Artemis can't stop smiling, even if it's just a crooked curve at the corner of her lips. Some things are just too familiar. "Simplify things for me, tell me what you already know so I can fill in the rest."

If he's discomfited by her being so at ease, it doesn't show. "Rumor has it that you've faded. Thalia announced to Zeus that you've left everything to her just a few hours ago, and that she's to take your place. She mentioned having some note to me personally when I asked her about it after the main bit, before I left." He's being cautious, wary. But he's open to talk, and that's all she needs. "Otherwise … nothing. You just disappeared. Again. But why are you here - why now? Why - why this again?"

"Because things are different now," Artemis answers earnestly. "Because - because if," and she hesitates, hoping that all she's done isn't for nothing, "if you still have any interest in something between us, I want to take that chance. I-"

Percy sighs. "Didn't - wasn't I clear? It's not any easier for me, y'know? Frick, no, I'm definitely not over it, but it's not right if-"

And then there's her knife in her hands, handle held in her right and blade easing into the flesh of her left, sanguine life-blood weeping onto the table. Percy stares, even more stunned than before.

The waiter arrives with their refreshments then leaves, apparently not giving a single shit about the girl cutting herself in open view. Maybe the Mist is hiding things from view, maybe Artemis really did hear him mutter "I'm not paid enough for this crap" under his breath.

Ignoring her stinging palm, she snabs a napkin from a dispenser to wipe the silver blade clean, before sheathing it. Then, she pulls a bandage from her satchel (easy outside access for all the right reasons) and expertly wraps it tight around her wound.

"Anything else?" asks Artemis sweetly, smugly, nabbing her drink in and taking in a deep breath. Somehow, since she became mortal, every smell is so much the sweeter. She blows at the smoke, smiling at the twirls, then sets it down to uses another napkin to clean away her blood before it congeals. Finally, she looks back to Percy - but he's still staring at the table, at a loss for words.

Not thinking of anything she can say at the moment, she sips at her drink. Damn - if nothing else, Artemis is glad Western civilization acquired chocolate. What was it, a Central American creation, globalized only a few centuries ago? Mortals really innovated some of the strangest yet best things.

Finally, Percy speaks. "You're mortal now? Schist, I heard some people talk about Apollo … why?"

Artemis shakes her head. Sometimes he surprises her, sometimes he says the stupidest things. "Why else, silly? Because of you."

"But what about the Hunt?!" protests Percy, gesticulating wildly. "What about Olympus, what about dying? I don't want you to die because of me! N-"

The former goddess seizes one of his hands, slamming it down onto the table. "Stop being stupid, Percy, it's unbecoming of you. Stop, calm down, drink your hot chocolate before it loses all its heat."

Staring into his jittery eyes, she carefully lets him go. Artemis watches as he takes a deep breath, following her instructions, and bringing his drink to his mouth.

"Frick!" Percy shoves the drink back onto the table and half covers his mouth.

Artemis giggles at his clumsiness. "Perseus, really?" She leans back in her bench, enjoying his mock glare. "I shouldn't have to tell you to be cautious."

He sighs, slouching and ruffling his hair. After a few more seconds, he takes up the cup again and blows on it, then finally drinks. In that moment, Artemis speaks.

"I didn't make my choice lightly, my dear Perseus. Thalia will be a fine leader for the Hunt, if she can undertake the burden of immortality." She smirks, reflecting on earlier conversations. "You would know about all that, wouldn't you. If she can't, I'm sure she can pick a good replacement. But I'm done with the Hunt. I've-" Artemis laughs outright, probably throwing off Percy a little. "Oh, I never considered it this way. How ironic. I've grown out of being immature. Goddess as I was, honest in intention but nonetheless naive, I began the Hunt. And goddess as I was, I reflected humanity - forever flawed, learning so much but so little over the millennia …"

She takes another draft, relishing the heady flavor. Pleased that Percy chooses not to talk but wait, respecting her and just listening. She settles into a comfortable position, drink in one hand and the other on the table, before continuing. "Olympus will be fine. Humanity has held steadfast, and as long as mortals live, I have little doubt that the gods will live on too. Heroes have proven that well enough to me, time and time again." She waggles her eyebrows at Percy suggestively, and beams at his blush.

"And if you worry of interference from them, the Ancient Laws forbid it, now more than ever." After his questioning glance, she continues. "Immortals cannot directly attack anyone beyond their purview, only retaliate. They cannot interfere with mortals without whim - so I'm safe."

"And of death - well-" Artemis blinks in surprise when Percy reaches out to clasp her hand, then beams again, paradoxically in broken but glorious acceptance. "To end, to rest. To resolve is a gift. Haven't you said that yourself? Is it so selfish of me to seek that too, or is it so selfish of you to say that I shouldn't? Don't misunderstand me - I don't intend to die anytime soon. The idea of a future, of times to come, as a mortal is so _intoxicating_."

She pauses, making sure what she says next is right. "The idea of a future with _you_ is intoxicating."

Judging by his sharp intake of breath, she thinks it is. Her eyes are now looking anywhere but at him, and Artemis is almost glad that she's nervous. She's glad that she feels _alive_. "You were right, you are right. If I couldn't be in love wi- if I couldn't love you forever, then it wasn't enough. And I think I could have - the millennia makes things hard, but I would have given it my all. But you wouldn't be there for it. You would not extend your own life, not with your love for your mother and sister so obvious, not with how much you've fought for, sacrificed for what could construe as a normal life."

"So. Inspired by your idiocy, I chose the foolish "third" option." She outright chuckles at his affronted look. "You'd already taken away the first option from the dilemma, forcing both of us into the second. But now I say fuck you, I do things my way." And her humor fades, and all that's left is the desperate dreams of a woman in love.

"And now I'm here, hoping you will still return my affections. That you're at least willing to try, even though I don't know why you would, after all that I've made you go through. Even though I don't know why you ever loved me to begin with, with how estranged our relationship essentially always was. First half a year of sporadic conversations, and then half a year of basically nothing at all …"

She looks down at their joined hands, the connection between them.

She smiles with all the hope she will ever muster, with the understanding of everything that could go wrong, and in dead resolution to take it if it came, and not hate Percy if it happened because she could understand _why_ if it happened. She smiles with the best of nihilism, never to regret because she tried her very best, and will go down that path less taken to the very end. Because her love won't change either way, only hurt a little more. "So I understand if nothing comes of this. If you think that I've lost my immortality for nothing."

Artemis smiles radiantly, brighter than the moon will ever shine. "But no. Fuck that. Because if nothing else, it was worth being able to come here and tell you that I love you."

She downs her drink and wipes her mouth, then takes his hand in both of hers. She leans forward, finally able to meet his the sea-green depths eyes with emotions welling up behind her own silver irises, and whispers. "I love you."

And then she lowers her head and her lips meet the back of his hand, not kissing but resting there. After the moment passes, she draws back, looking down at their hands once more. She holds on loosely, giving him the agency to pull away.

Oh, sweet release. Sweet catharsis, sweet vacancy, ready to be crushed or made brilliant.

And pull back he does.

But before her smile can fall, his other hand is caressing her cheek, and she looks up, and he's there, and then they're kissing.

The world suddenly feels a lot smaller. The kiss lacks passion … and fittingly so. It's not the moment for the burning vivaciousness of life. But the companionate part is there for all to witness.

Then it's over, short and sweet, but meaning all of the universe.

"If - if that didn't answer your question …" Percy trails off, fiddling with something under the table. His sudden bashfulness, however unexpected, is also surprisingly cute. But what was he doing?

Without no celebration whatsoever, he presents a bracelet. It's elegant in its simplicity, silver twine threaded through a dozen plus pieces of sea glass, colors ranging from all the hues of the ocean, pale white to foam blue to rich indigo to a muted teal to …

It's gorgeous.

"Is that for me?" Artemis breathes.

She can't move, shocked as she is, as Percy takes her left hand and slips it on, where it slides to rest next to her hair tie. Artemis raises her arm, turning it back and forth as she stares at the symphony, no, the _aurora_ of hues that adorns her porcelain skin.

Distracted as she is, Percy finds her other hand and begins to rub circles into the back of her hand. "I've been working on it for since April," he admits. "I might've gone overboard, but even after the Summer Solstice and August I couldn't keep from adding to it. I've been wearing it, it mostly just became a keepsake because … y'know. But you're here. And it's yours."

"Thank you!" Artemis rushes out of her booth seat and into his, embracing him for all it's worth. She delights the warmth radiating from him, and the warmth spreading from her own core. She smiles into his jacket. "I take it your answer is a yes."

"No," Percy nuzzles at her hair. "My answer is an 'I love you too.'"

So they sit for some time, undeniably content in their cuddle. His arms are so cozy that she falls into a doze, because he's too careful not to jostle her while finishing his own hot chocolate.

Artemis is roused immediately though, when he pays the bill, another two drinks in a carrier ready to go on the table. "It's midnight," he says. "We should go."

She slips on her satchel and latches onto his side, following him absentmindedly as he guides her out of the cafe and onto the street, too busy wondering what happens next. They stand, taking in the night air.

"We have a lot more we need to talk about," he begins, "if this is going to work out."

She sighs in agreement, letting go of his arm, prepared for him to depart. "But not tonight."

Percy nods. "Not tonight. Not the best thing to do so late and tired, and I promised my Mom I would bring back the drinks soon. My home is a few blocks to the left … where do you stay?"

"In fact, only a block over that same direction." Artemis replies, surprised.

"Then shall I escort you?" Percy smiles, offering his arm.

She takes it, and they begin their walk. It's far too slow to be a walk, but she's hardly going to bring that up, and she doubts he would either.

"Like, that's definitely something you're going to have to explain to me. How in heck did you find an open apartment in NYC?" Percy jokes.

"Offering to overpay for a pretty small place may be how," answers Artemis. "But why have you softened your language?"

"Softened? Oh!" Artemis turns, sure to catch him blushing. "I'm practicing to make sure I don't drop the f-bomb or something around Daphne."

"A noble undertaking." She says seriously, before both of them dissolve into chuckles.

They're already nearly there. "I'm staying just here, actually."

And after a brief glance to where Artemis gestured, Percy hums in response before pulling away to face her. Not that she's accepting that - she draws in close, locking her hands at his waist. And when he mirrors her action, she lowers her head, until their foreheads meet.

"Schist, there's so much we need to talk frickin' about," mutters Percy, and Artemis can't help but laugh once again.

"Just think of it as your next adventure - just without all the life-threatening battles," jests Artemis. But when Percy doesn't laugh in return, Artemis reaches up to caress his cheek. "Hey, hey - I know. I think I understand.

"And yes, we do need to talk. I know there's going to be a lot we need to sort out, and I'm still fixing up a bunch of my own matters at the moment. But if your love is as honest, as total as mine - no, because it's as honest and total as mine, I'm sure things will work. We can adapt."

Percy, oddly, finds some humor in that.

"What's so funny?" Artemis asks, frowning.

"I guess gods can change," he answers, chuckling.

How profound. She rolls her eyes. Though … "It's not like I'm immortal anymore, silly."

Then they fall silent and brooding. The only warmth left besides their bodies is the drinks Percy carries, and it's fading.

"I'm just worried - like, what happens when I get back to New Rome for college in a few weeks?" The worry in his voice is far too raw for her liking.

"Well, is it too late for me to apply?"

"Maybe not." The relief in his voice is audible. "I- I should really go, though. How, when do you wanna meet up again?"

Hm … she can spare her matters for another time. "How about you just come here tomorrow morning and we spend the entire day together?"

After a moment of consideration, he answers. "I … think I could do that, yes."

"All day to talk, just as you wanted."

"Oh, Moonbeam, I want to talk with you for a whole lot longer than just one day."

This time, she the one to blush at what he's implying. "You know I'm not the goddess of the moon anymore, Percy."

"Luna." Percy swoops in for a deep kiss, and Artemis closes her eyes, trying to commit this moment to memory forever. "Artemis." Another kiss, more intense than before. "Moonbeam." One last kiss, quick and lingering.

"You will always be the moon to me. Here I am, the tides - and there you shine, pulling me to you. That's … that's life."

Artemis smiles softly in agreement, fingering her new bracelet. " _C'est la vie_."

* * *

It's not a myth believed by many. It is simultaneously too amazing and too understated, too much and too little to believe as truth. An event that surely had to be have been far more grand to ever have happened, compared to what is said to have transpired. But the simple version is the only one ever told nonetheless. The simplicity is what makes it special.

A man finds a goddess grieving, and reassures her. The goddess finds the man mourning, and comforts him. And then they fall in love - a consummate love, that to them, lasts forever and a day.

It is the story of how a goddess achieved mortality.


End file.
